Weeds
by Brazen Hussy
Summary: Merle wasn't an unreasonable man. All he wanted to do was survive, find his brother and wreak bloody and terrible vengeance on Officer Friendly & Co. You'd think it wouldn't be a hell of lot to ask for, but with the dead walking around it's hard for a guy to catch a break. It wouldn't be so bad if he didn't still have to deal with the living... Merle/OC Drugs, sex & violence.
1. Chapter 1

**WEEDS**

_A weed is a plant that has mastered every survival skill except for learning how to grow in rows. _

_Doug Larson_

**Chapter One**

Merle was starting to think he was well and truly fucked this time. As he ran, he could hear the faint moaning of the geeks behind him as background noise to his own tearing breaths. They were too fuckin' close, and he knew he'd need to stop before they did.

He ducked left down an alley, pausing only to slam the fire axe down into the forehead of a geek that lurched at him from behind a dumpster. He had long managed to ignore the disgust he felt as rotten black matter spurted towards him. The real challenge was quickly yanking the weapon out of the goddamn thing's skull using his left hand, but after a week without any other alternative he was getting used to it.

Skidding on a piece of long discarded cardboard, he wheeled right into another alley. He was fifty yards in before he realised that there was no way he was going to be able to climb the high wire fence at the end with one hand. There wasn't even a fuckin' dumpster he could use to climb it or to hide in. He chanced a look back as he considered his options; he knew he wouldn't have time to make it back out of the alley before the geeks were on him, and summarised his feelings in one short and breathless sentence.

"_Fuck."_

…

It was his own fault, he knew that much. He'd been ransacking a pharmacy, getting some meds for his stump, now a week old and just starting to heal rather painfully. What pissed him off more was that the fuckin' thing was burning and itchy, which meant it was probably infected. He also felt nauseous and light headed, though that could easily be coming down off the coke. Either way, it made sense to risk the raid.

Then of course he'd stayed on, looking for any shit that would help with the comedown or just get him nicely tweaked. Xanax or something similar would be good. By the time he'd shoved a couple of likely looking bottles into his duffle bag the geeks had picked up on him. He'd busted a few of their heads and made it out of the store, but there were now about thirty of the filthy fuckers trailing him through the suburbs…

…

There were two doors in the alley, one on either side. He sprinted to the nearest one, maybe twenty yards down on the left side – it was a steel security door and pretty solid, so really it was a crying shame he was on the wrong side of it. It turned out to be locked from the inside and he aimed a few angry kicks at the handle.

"Goddamn ya, ya motherfucker! Shit!"

He gave up and ran for the next door further down the alley. It was equally solid and equally unresponsive. Desperation began to take hold as he heard the first few geeks stumble into the alleyway. As they saw him, their groans grew louder and their speed increased.

Now in a full panic, Merle began ramming the door with his shoulder. '_Goddammitmotherfuckincunt_." he yelled. "C'mon, c'mon, ya fuckin' bastard…"

Suddenly, there was another voice carrying over the clanging metal and groaning.

'Hey! Hey, quick, over here!'

…

He was still bodyslamming the door when he realised he'd heard another human voice; at least one forming words. Looking round, he saw a figure standing in the shadow of the now open security door. The figure quickly leaned round the edge of it to see the geeks rapidly approaching, before turning back and observing he was still standing motionless.

"_Shit!_ Move, fuckwit! MOVE!" the voice yelled again with a rising note of panic.

It wasn't exactly a tough decision, though every instinct resisted running towards the herd of geeks. Merle sprinted back and the figure stood aside to let him through the door before immediately slamming it behind him and sliding the bolts back into place. His ragged gasps didn't mask the pounding on the door, as the geeks expressed their displeasure at being denied a good meal in the only way they had left.

"_Jesusfuck!_," said the voice, "that was too close. You alright?" His brain noted two things about the voice; one it was female, a fact that he might be more interested in later, when he was less exhausted. Two, it was… odd. Make that three; odd and oddly familiar.

Merle had about caught his breath so he looked up, trying to make her out in in the dim light coming from a small window. It shone more on his face than hers, and Merle saw her silhouette jerk in recognition. "Oh! Hang on…fuck, it's… err…oh, I can't remember, but _it is_ you, isn't it?"

"Merle," he replied as recognition suddenly hit. "Fuck me, that you, Sugartits?!"

"Awww, you remember…"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_4 weeks earlier…_

Kate had begged and pleaded with Shereen to be allowed to hang out in the local bar while they waited for the airport bus. Summer in Atlanta was hot wherever you were, she argued, and it wasn't any cooler to wait in the hotel lobby, particularly the one they'd been able to afford with its shitty air con.

"Fine," sighed Shereen, "but don't go talking to any of those crazies you seem to attract. I don't want to explain to your mum how you were chopped up and dumped by the roadside in a suitcase on our last day."

"In an _hour_? That hardly seems likely, even for me! Anyway, _some_ of them are normal!" Shereen shot her a rather disbelieving look, so Kate got while the going was good.

They'd both come from London for a few weeks holiday, a mix of hiking in the Appalachians and soaking up a little bit of the Deep South. However, while they'd been roughing it in the woods, there had been some kind of panic about a virus gripping the States. When they returned to Atlanta a few days before their flight, reports still seemed to be confused and sketchy about what precisely was happening. However, they got a sense it was a good time to going home.

She'd felt a bit restricted in the city, as Shereen preferred not to wander too far with the unexplained panic on; it was straight to whatever they were going to see, then back to the hotel. However, their last day had finally come and Kate wanted to make the most of it as best she could, particularly since Atlanta seemed unaffected still. There had been the odd army type on the street, but there wasn't any disorder and she was sanguine about rambling about by herself. Since she always liked to feel she was seeing the 'real' place by seeking out local haunts, Kate thought she'd hit the dive bar around the corner. She'd spotted it the other night; a real spit and sawdust kind of place, so quite sensibly Shereen had flat out refused to go in.

"Oh my God, Kate, NO! How do you even _find_ these places?! It looks like it's full of rednecks and serial killers. We'll get stabbed," Shereen's grip was firm as she dragged Kate back to the hotel.

"Shucks, that's crazy talk, Shereen!," Kate responded, putting on an appalling American accent. "This is the US of A. We're _far_ more likely to be shot. _Everyone_ has a gun in America. In fact, I think it's compulsory..."

"_So_ not helping your case," replied an exasperated Shereen, and that was that.

And so it was that Kate found herself in an almost empty Dusty's Bar and Grill in the early afternoon, watching the condensation run down the side of her beer and hoping that in next hour she would be able to wring an entertaining chat out of some Southern stud before her holiday was up. However, the thinly populated bar was distinctly lacking in both talent and atmosphere, plus the barmaid was _still_ looking at her slightly oddly; Kate just _knew_ she shouldn't have asked for a glass as well as the bottle…

Suddenly the door behind her swung back on its hinges rather violently, and a raspy Southern voice filled the bar.

"Cheryl darlin', ya got a cold beer for yer favourite Dixon?!"

The waitress didn't exactly transform from surly to smiles, but her face relaxed slightly and there was a glint in her eye. "I got me one for a Dixon with the money."

There was a deep and rather attractive chuckle. "Always got tha money fer one beer, darlin', don't cha worry."

Heavy footsteps approached the counter to Kate's right, and she found herself rather keen to see the owner of this attractive and, to her at least, exotic voice. She carefully edged round slightly on her bar stool and studied him as he received his beer and went to sit down.

She wasn't exactly disappointed, but looks wise he certainly didn't measure up to what she thought of as his Voice of Hotness. Her initial impression was that he was tall, though as she studied him she realised he was probably not quite six foot. Instead he had a rather stocky, solid presence which perhaps gave the illusion of greater height. He had broad shoulders, and his muscular arms were on display; she was fairly sure you didn't see powerful looking forearms like that everyday unless you were married to Popeye.

However, his face was rugged rather than handsome with high, rather brutal looking cheekbones, a strong grey-stubbled jaw and deep-set eyes. His close cropped hair was dark brown but it too was greying along the sides and gave away his age as considerably more than her own 27 years. Maybe in his forties, she guessed, though she was erring on the side of generosity. Clearly a man who done some hard living.

His clothes looked like they might be a compromise between biker and labourer. The leather waistcoat and wrist cuff looked like something that might belong to a gang, but the jeans and boots looked scuffed and dusty from heavy use. Admittedly her knowledge of biker gang fashion was so limited as to be almost non-existent, but she was pretty sure they took more care of their gear than that.

She glanced back up at his face to find him observing her intently over his beer bottle.

He wasn't smiling.

_Oh shit._

Kate wasn't normally obvious about checking people out and she experienced a moment of embarrassment at being caught. Plus, everything about him said tough sum'bitch, as the local vernacular had it. While she didn't mind taking calculated risks, she certainly didn't want to antagonise some random gang member who might have a load of his mates waiting outside. Attempting to recover her composure, Kate barely looked him in the face as she flashed a neutral smile of acknowledgement and quickly turned back to her own beer.

A few seconds passed.

As she sipped her beer in the silence, she hoped her smile had conveyed that she was not only friendly but harmless, and that there was no need to initiate a confrontation with a cliché along the lines of 'What the fuck are you looking at?'

_Oh God, she was going to be beaten to death by a motorcycle gang and what was worse was that Shereen would be right. Bollocks. Double bollocks._

She risked a glance up again.

_Oh. my. God..._

He was _smiling_, and she was quite amazed by the difference it made. It wasn't a creepy smile as she might have expected, it was… well, he actually had a _really_ nice smile that reached his eyes, drawing attention to the fact that although small, they were a really rather pretty shade of blue.

"Ya'll see anything ya like darling, ya just lemme know," he drawled.

_And that voice! The guy sounded like he was raised on nothing but gravel and rage washed down with a healthy dose of Southern Comfort. _

She could feel the impulsive smile automatically spreading across her face. Of course, Shereen would not be happy if she came back to find her in conversation with some tough looking biker. She'd hear about it all the way to the airport. Still… it _was_ the last day of her holiday… and _maybe_ they wouldn't be able to sit together… or she _could _pretend to fall asleep…

_Fuck it. _

She shot him her best flirtatious look. "Oh yes? And you think you're the man to help me find it?"

"Well darlin', I guess that all depends what you're looking for, don't it?"

"Oh, the _usual_, you know. Six foot two, eyes of blue…." _They really were such a lovely deep blue, and so strangely incongruous on his hard face._

His shoulders shook slightly and his voiced dropped. "Well, ya got those blue eyes right here darlin', and there's damn near six foot of me if tha's close enough for ya." He leaned towards her across the bar. "But uhh… them _extra_ inches ya want? I got 'em where it _counts_…"

Ladylike be damned, Kate snorted with laughter at that._ She'd have to tell Shereen that one, even if it meant a lecture._

Unfortunately it appeared Cheryl had decided to take a leaf out of Shereen's cockblock book. "Ya best watch ya'self, Merle," she said with disdain, "ya can hear in voice she's some hoity-toity Yankee." She gave Kate a rather dismissive look. "Asked fer a glass fer her beer, swear ta God."

Merle shot Kate a measuring look and rubbed the stubble on his chin, though he was still slightly smiling. She put on an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I'm a Brit, not a Yankee. Or a Limey, if you prefer a different appellation. But definitely not a Yank."

The smile on his face widened. "Hell, darlin', I thought cha talked funny. Ape-pel-lay-shun," he repeated, drawing out the word with a smirk and a shake of his head. "Fuck me."

"Easy to say, harder to spell," she responded with a grin. Merle was still staring at her intently. _Didn't he blink?_ "And I'll have you know that other Americans have found my accent cute."

"No shit?" His eyes roamed over her, and he drawled, "Bet it weren't just ya accent…" As though remembering her presence, his eyes flicked back over to a quietly disapproving Cheryl and he stood suddenly. "Can't have a conversation with ya on these stools, seems ya Brit voice don't carry real well across the bar. Why don't cha come over ta one of these here tables, and we can get friendly like?"

Anything to get away from the sour Cheryl; however, she made sure she picked a table that was still within reasonable view of the rest of the bar and the door. Not that it would have made much difference with so few others in there. As he followed her she once again had that odd sense of him being taller than he was. She stood nearly five and half foot herself, so she was certainly no delicate flower. Glancing back she found he was right behind her. _How did he get so close without her noticing? He had clumped into the bar earlier, and now he was walking quietly, like a hunter... _

_..._**_or a predator_**_, the voice of Shereen piped up in her mind. _

_Oh shut up, __Kate thought back__, I'm in a public place for fuck's sake! What's he going to do? Anyway, he was still smiling. That was good, right...? _

…

The body in a suitcase by the side of the road was of course a reference to Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer. I do love Michael Rooker so expect more references to his other films to be randomly dropped in throughout this story.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Kate had not been alone in making observations. Since entering the bar, Merle had been making plenty of his own.

He'd been a regular at Dusty's for a couple of years now. It was sufficiently low rent to allow him to carry out his dealings with his suppliers, while not being so obviously criminal as to attract much attention from the cops. With all the shit going around about this virus, he'd told Daryl they were going up to the old hunting grounds near the quarry, wait till all this epidemic crap had blown over. Daryl had grunted his agreement and gone into work at the local garage, to pick up the last of his meager wages.

_Not like he was gonna do anythin' else. Lil' pussy knew he needed ol' Merle to look out fer him. _

Meanwhile Merle had taken what cash he had handy and made a run into Atlanta, picking up some more supplies before they went up into the hills. He hit their usual haunts, topping up their camping gear, food, even hunting supplies and ammo. Now he just needed to complete some business for more _personal_ supplies before heading back.

That wasn't his only reason for rolling into Dusty's though. He could also admit to himself that in the last few months he'd been going through something of a dry spell on the pussy front, and he wanted to end it quick before he left town. He'd been waiting for another bout of the clap to clear up before looking around at his options but, now he and Daryl needed to get gone and fast, Merle was seriously considering making some moves on Cheryl. He wasn't exactly happy about it, used up bar-room queen that she was, but he didn't have time to play around. Anyway, pussy was pussy in the dark, so he was going to make an effort to hit that shit before he and Daryl packed up and headed off.

The place was pretty much empty when he walked in, with that sour smell of spilt beer, old sweat and tobacco that had seeped into the wood. It was all so familiar he barely bothered to scope the place anymore, either for cops or competition. He made sure he was the centre of Cheryl's attention when he came in, but as he approached her he was reminded why he hadn't made any real effort with before. He could tell she must have been a real beauty once, but the afternoon sun on her face showed the premature wrinkles round her mouth from a lifetime of smoking and disappointment, while her blonde hair was dry and broken from repeated bleaching.

Merle kept the suggestive smirk on his face as they spoke, but he was only just covering his dislike for the situation he found himself in.

_Jesus! What a man's gotta do just ta get his rocks off! Bet there ain't a lot of tread left on her tires neither. This one's gonna take beer, brother… _

Cheryl gave him a winning smile, revealing the slight tar stains on her teeth. In his mind, Merle sighed.

… _fuckloads of beer._

...

However, once Cheryl had turned to fetch his drink, he noticed that there was one other person propping up the bar. A fuckin' _female_ person, no less…

Almost anything was a more attractive proposition than Cheryl at this point, but even so this woman was actually fairly decent. She wasn't a beauty but she was pretty enough; come to think of it, better than he'd seen in a long time really.

Merle ran an assessing gaze over her quickly.

_Damn Dixon! Jus' look at them long legs, an'_… _well_ _shit! That was a fine set of titties right there!_ _That brown hair ain't nothin' special, but i's long enough to work ya hands into. Pretty face, kinda pale, big dark eyes which…huh, would ya look at that? Which were checking _**_him_**_ out!_

_Well, fuck me…_

She definitely didn't look like the usual clientele of Dusty's, at least the female kind. For a moment he was suspicious as he considered the two most likely options – cop or whore. She had that clean and neat look of cops, but she wasn't ringing any internal alarm bells for him. Plus she didn't convey that subtle air of confident authority he expected from them. _Bit too young mebbe?_ _Not more'n mid-twenties – could be a rookie I s'pose, but somehow it jus' don't fit._

Which left working girl, though if she was a hooker she was pretty fuckin' bad at advertising. She was barely flashing her shit in that vest and shorts. _An' girl has got some good shit to flash_. _New to tha game?_

Based on her possible inexperience, Merle frowned slightly as he began to estimate what she might charge; then based on his considerable experience, he rapidly began to calculate how he could knock her down into his price range.

Her inspection apparently finished, she abruptly looked back to his face and their eyes caught. She seemed slightly startled, but flashed him a small smile before looking away. _Hmm, tha's a nice face alright, an' he liked tha' smile on her… _he started throwing in a few more bucks to the theoretical bid in his head before he noticed something odd.

_Wha' tha_… _now she was fuckin' blushin'?!_ _Ain't no-time, nowhere, no-how ya see a hooker blush. Don't care how little time they've spent turnin' tricks._

So that meant… his brain froze. That meant he was left with possibility that there was a young, attractive and apparently sober woman who was checking him out.

_Well, fuck me twice…_

Merle didn't do badly with women, but he knew that was because he played a narrow field. Sometimes he attracted women his age looking for a bit of street tough, the sense of danger they got from him maybe taking the edge of a dull marriage. He got women who were too drunk or high to care who they crawled into bed with. Occasionally he'd go for the well-travelled type like Cheryl, women who seen enough better days to be grateful for a quick tumble in an alleyway, and who thought you were a real gentleman if for the sake of privacy you at least found a dumpster to fuck behind. More often than not he'd pay for a hooker, though he normally preferred to just get blow jobs from them. _Got tha clap often enough from women tha' weren't turning tricks, fuck knows wha' some old tom was carryin'._

So, the decision now was to either make a play for Cheryl, or mystery woman. Cheryl was the safer bet; he only had an hour or so to get off, get high and get out… but it would be damn shame to pass up a sweet piece like this. He smiled widely; Dixon's didn't back away from a challenge, they just fought harder. She looked back up to him, her eyes wide in that young face… _Well hell, fuck Cheryl. _

_Or rather, not._

He made his play, and damn if she didn't respond. _Woman's got a pretty fuckin' sexy smile when she flirts._ Even laughed at his dick joke, which Merle considered a good sign; he liked it when bitches weren't uptight about every little fuckin' thing.

Her voice was quieter than he was used to, but it had a deep tone to it he liked. _Nothin' worse than some shrill bitch squealin' in ya fuckin' ear while ya trying ta get off_. Still, the way she talked hit his ear strangely, not harsh exactly but like there were too many 'r's rolling around in her mouth. He wasn't sure Cheryl was right when she called her a Yankee, and of course it turned out she wasn't.

_Lucky he hadn't been plannin' to fuck Cheryl's brains out, bitch was barely copin' as it was._

He could feel the dislike coming off Cheryl, though he wasn't sure if that was because he'd been too obvious about thinking of fuckin' Cheryl before this girl came along, or if it was just one of them times when women got it into their heads to dislike each other. _More likely on tha rag, he thought. Bitches, who'd live with 'em?_

He decided it was best to try and get her away from Cheryl, and, _fuckin' miracle of miracles_, she agreed to come and sit with him. He studied her as she stood up and led him to a table near the window. _She was taller than he'd thought an' he was still lovin' them long legs, though those hiking boots on tha end of 'em didn't do anything for him. He didn't mind the shorts though; tha rear view was almost as good as tha front._ _Yeah, he could imagine himself tapping that._

_A Brit, huh?_ He was fairly sure he'd heard they were a bunch of limp-dicks and ice queens, though 'cept for wetbacks Merle hadn't met anyone who wasn't American since he left the fuckin' army.

Still, ol' Merle wasn't stupid. He wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth when he could stare at its tits instead.

...

Thanks for your reviews! I hope you're enjoying this initial encounter, since there is a little bit more of it to go before we return to the zombie apocalypse.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

They sat down opposite each other, and Kate smiled as she watched him stare at her for a few moments. She gave credit where credit was due; he did spend at least some of that time looking at her face.

Well, maybe she couldn't blame him. The goods were a little on display; given the heat she'd chosen to wear a new vest top with a scoop neck that had proven unexpectedly low. And since her last afternoon now seemed to be taking on a more interesting direction, Kate was prepared to suspend a few feminist principles for the next hour and cut him some slack; in fact she was starting to find it hard not to laugh. She let it go for a few seconds, but finally felt she should interrupt when he took a swig from his beer bottle without even shifting his gaze from them. "No tricks, I'm afraid."

"Huh?" Merle looked up, a slightly startled look in his eyes. She couldn't help grinning.

"You were staring so hard I thought you were expecting them to perform a trick, like... I don't know… talk or something. And they haven't spoken yet."

He looked at her warily for a moment, as if trying to work out if she was annoyed. Then he gave that deep chuckle again and winked at her. "Can they juggle?"

He shocked a gasp of laugher from her. "Not that they've told me! Though they might have been giving me the silent treatment all these years… which incidentally is what you'll be getting unless you look up, tough guy." Kate tried to look disapproving, but as he didn't appear to be at all chastised she was pretty sure she was failing miserably. Still, at least now he was looking her in the face.

"Alright, ya got me. So ya gotta name, darlin'? Or shall I jus' call ya Limey?"

"Oh no! Not Limey, surely you can think of something better?"

"Sugartits?"

She shot him a narrow look, but his raised eyebrows and widening grin suggested he had meant it as a joke, so she played along. "Well, by remarkable coincidence my name is Katherine, which roughly translates from the Ancient Greek for 'she of the awesome bosom', so why don't you call me Kate like everyone else and we can endeavour to steer the conversation towards something other than my boobs?"

He took another quick gulp of his beer. "Up to you, darlin', but I call that a damn shame. Them things ya got there are worth talkin' 'bout."

She leaned forward slightly, and joked, "Talk? A man like you, I'm surprised that's all you can think to do with them." She was slightly shocked when she saw his eyes darken, and his stare become more intense. She leaned back quickly._ Whoa, obviously came out a little stronger than intended. Rein it back there girl, rein it back…_

"And your name was something beginning with M? Sorry, I didn't catch it."

"Merle." He was still looking at her like she was meat and he was hungry.

"Ah, like Merle Haggard?" That seemed to throw him off track and ease the tension a little, as he frowned slightly. _Okay, wrong thing to say apparently, but how many famous people are called Merle? _

"Sure. Well, Katie," he continued, "how come ya hanging out here in Georgia, 'stead a drinking tea wit' tha Queen?"

"Oh, Liz was busy, so I thought I'd take a little personal time." She smiled to let him know she was joking, since she had actually met people who thought everyone from England knew the Queen. "No, actually my friend and I thought we'd do a bit of hiking, see a bit of the South. You know the drill. I've only been to New York otherwise, so I thought it would be interesting to see a very different part of the States."

His eyes narrowed. "And?"

He said it abruptly, which Kate found a little odd; however, she saw no harm in telling the truth. "I loved it. The woods and mountains were just beautiful, and the people are nice…at least," and she winked conspiratorially at him and shot a significant glance in Cheryl's direction, "once they realise you aren't a Yankee."

He smirked. "Yeah, ya Yankee talkin' don't go down real well here in Georgia." He looked to be considering her again. "How come ya in a place like this by ya'self? Y'all mentioned a friend; where they at?"

"Please, I've been in worse! I didn't even have to step over a chalk outline." He huffed what might have been a laugh and she continued. "Anyway, my friend decided to wait in the hotel lobby for the bus to take us to the airport. She's a bit nervous about being out and about with all this talk of an epidemic." He seemed to be smiling again at that, and she decided there was no harm in asking what he knew. "I don't suppose you've heard anything about what's going on exactly?"

"Shit, I ain't heard nothin' more than's on tha news. Heard some crazy stuff tha other day, people eating each other an' shit like that."

"What the fuck? You're joking, aren't you?" Kate was startled; since they were leaving neither her nor Shereen had listened to the news last night. He was still half smiling, but for a moment she thought his eyes shadowed faintly.

"Hell no! Tha's why my brother'n I are heading tha fuck outta town…"

"Out of Atlanta? It's happening here now…?" Kate was worried now. _Christ, maybe I should head back to the hotel and wait…_

"Naw darlin', don't get cha panties inna bunch." He reached across the table and lightly clasped her wrist before sort of patting her hand with his in an awkward gesture of comfort. Kate was quite touched, figuratively as well as literally, as he didn't seem the sensitive type. She glanced at his large tanned hand on her pale one, and absently noted that although his hands were warm and dry, they were a little rough.

"Atlanta's fine," To her surprise, he left his hand over her own, "I ain't a city boy. My brother an' I, we live out a ways in the hills, a little town 'bout 40 miles out. We're gonna pack our shit up an' head out ta our old huntin' grounds in tha woods, stay there until it blows over."

She felt a little calmer, but decided to change the subject anyway. "So… you hunt? I'm impressed, I don't really do survival stuff like that. I mean, it's not really life or death in London. Unless it's rush hour of course…" He looked a little puzzled; maybe he didn't get that last joke. "What do you hunt?"

"Whatever's around. Mostly rabbits, deer when i's in season, squirrel if tha huntin's bad…"

"Squirrel? Really?"

His eyes got that hard look again. "Yeah," he said shortly. Once again she wasn't sure if somehow she was on the verge of upsetting him; he was a bit temperamental, to say the least. She wondered if he thought she was going to react badly to him eating squirrel. _Merle, my good man, you do not know who you're dealing with…_

"I've never had it, though I've eaten a lot of rabbit which I suppose is quite similar to squirrel. I had guinea pig once but… hmm, no I think I was probably closer with rabbit. What would _you_ say it tastes like?"

His jaw dropped, and he was staring at her in amazement. "Y'all ate _guinea pig_?"

"There's no need to look at me like I got up in the night and ate the family pet. I was in Peru and it was on the menu in this little restaurant, and I like to try new things and I thought, 'Well, why the hell not?" He was still staring. "So…still waiting to hear what squirrel tastes like?"

"Kinda like chicken. Bit more gamey though." he finally said, giving her a dubious look.

"Disappointing, but to be expected. Everything tastes like chicken apparently. I wonder if it means we're in the Matrix? I'd still like to try it though."

The perturbed look faded, and was replaced by a slightly cautious grin. "Mebbe we'll get some squirrel stew in ya before ya leave." He snorted, "Goddamn though, woman, fuckin' guinea pig!"

Kate laughed, and took the opportunity to slip her hand out from beneath his warm one, ostensibly to grab her beer and tip it at him, "Well, if guinea pig weirds you out, I won't tell you some of the other stuff I've eaten on my travels. You'd run away."

"Hell, I prob'bly would at tha'!" he grinned.

"Ha! And I thought you were a tough guy!" she threw back at him.

"And I thought ya was high class, but ya wandering 'round eatin' fuckin' pets!" he shook his head, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.

"Hey, don't judge me, O Slayer of Squirrels!" They were both chuckling now; maybe the alcohol was kicking in. "Honestly, I'm really very nice once you get to know me! I'm starting to think it's a shame we won't get to know each other better."

"Yeah? Why ya say tha'?" Something in his face shifted, but she couldn't quite put her finger on what.

"Umm… well because my bus will be here within the next 40 minutes, max. And somehow you don't strike me as the pen pal type."

"Can't argue wit' tha', darlin'. Still, I'm thinkin' tha' gives us more'n enough time ta get better acquainted…" She was about to ask what exactly he meant when his hand slowly slid back onto to hers. She looked up, and his eyes were fixed on hers, the blue colour somehow deeper and more intense.

_Err… hang on, what's happening now…?_

"Listen, darlin', I'm waitin' now on a… well, call him a business acquaintance; should be here any minute. But after tha', how's about me an' you take a little bathroom break together, if ya know what I mean?"

_I'm so sorry, wha…?!_

"I's quiet in here," he continued, taking her silence for assent, "an' people know me; they'll know better than ta bother us. An' don't cha worry about nothin', ol' Merle'll do ya right…"

_Do me WHAT?! _

Kate just stared at him, the neutral smile that had served her so well in confusing or dodgy situations in various parts of the world still pinned to her face; she was too stunned to reply. She'd been hit on before, of course she had, but this was just so blunt, so…so… well, so in your face! And his confidence that she would agree was astounding! Had she really come across like that? She opened her mouth to speak, though she wasn't exactly sure what was going to come out of it …

Suddenly she heard footsteps behind her, and felt a presence loom over her shoulder. Merle had noticed too, and she was amazed at how quickly his whole demeanour changed. He slid back into his chair, moving one hand to his knee and keeping the other still clasped around his beer, apparently relaxed. However, she could feel the change in atmosphere, the tension that suddenly existed.

_My brain can't cope with much more of this_, she thought faintly…

"Garza," said Merle evenly, "can't believe ya on time fer once."

Kate chanced a glance over her shoulder. A tall Hispanic man was standing beside her, dressed in a white wife-beater and cargo pants. He was quite young, with long hair and a long face which wasn't quite good looking. He was covered in tattoos that went all the way up onto his neck. She couldn't read Spanish, but she was pretty sure some of the stuff written over him would ultimately translate as trouble.

"Can't be wasting time these days man," he said, his voice faintly accented, "too much weird shit going down." He glanced down at her, and somehow his cold eyes running over her figure made her far more creeped out and uncomfortable than Merle's fixed stare had. Garza seemed to dismiss her and turned back to Merle, who was watching him with an angry frown. "You doing business or you doing bitches?" He shot another quick glance her way "Or maybe you're doing both, but I ain't got all day, _cabron_."

_Hey, did he just imply I was a prostitute…?!_

Merle stood up slow. Even though Garza had an inch or two on Merle, Kate saw him tense, and she didn't blame him. _Jesus,_ _Merle looks fucking lethal… _Merle spoke again in that same low, controlled tone.

"Y'all go wait fer me in tha men's room. I ain't doin' business wit' cha out here."

Garza jerked his chin in assent, and went round the bar and through the door. Merle didn't take his eyes off him for a second. Out of the corner of her eye Kate could see that Cheryl was scowling but apparently unsurprised. Obviously this was not the first time this kind of thing had happened in here.

**_Well done Kate_**, said the voice of Shereen in her head, **_now you're in the middle of a drug deal with a guy who thinks you're going to shag him in the Gents._**

_Unless you're going to give me some helpful advice, shut the hell up, _Kate thought back, still slightly dazed by the situation.

**_Oh no, you don't attract crazy people, not you… _**mocked the voice of Shereen.

Merle turned back to her, and though he was clearly still on edge, he gave her a smile. "I won't keep ya waitin' long, darlin', but business before pleasure. Won't be more'n about 10 minutes, then I'll come get cha, so keep it warm for me, ya'hear?"

She stared at him, completely immobile, and fragments of random thoughts collided in her mind with what she should be saying. _No way…_ _I'm sure_ _you're very nice but… argh, I need to lose the smile... in the toilets? in this place? eww…_ _must be going, bus to catch…I'm not that kind of girl … oh my god this day has taken such a weird turn…_

Unfortunately, those things seemed to collide in her mouth too, so all that came out in response was a slightly strangled squeak. Even more unfortunately, Merle seemed to take that simply as a request for reassurance. Smiling, he leaned over and pinched her chin with calloused fingers.

"Don't cha'll worry, darlin', I know yer a classy piece…."

She almost sighed with relief._ Oh thank god, he'd been joking…._

"…we'll use one of tha stalls."

As he left, Kate's brain fried completely.

…

Many thanks for the lovely reviews, I'm glad people like my Merle (…if he only were!) and I hope you continue to do so. Apologies for the long chapter but I seem to be on a bit of run at the moment, so I just thought I'd slip this in before the real Merle turns up tonight – can't wait!

A slight shout out to Slither with the reference to meat and him being hungry. Very funny film if you haven't seen it. Also, obviously, Katherine does not translate from the Ancient Greek for 'she of the awesome bosom.' Apologies to any Katherine's reading out there for misappropriation of your name

Fair warning, in the next chapter we will have graphic violence, so if you're more into the humour aspect of this do just prepare yourselves. This story will occasionally get a bit dark.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Merle was now completely focussed on the task in hand. He could feel the tension in his shoulders as he strode to the bathroom, and shrugged a little to try and loosen the muscles. Adrenaline might give you an edge, but if you couldn't work at speed in close quarters combat you were fucked. Maybe he'd get lucky, maybe he wouldn't need to start throwing punches, but it paid to be prepared and he could feel trouble brewing.

Still, if he could get through the next ten minutes without too much fuckin' inconvenience, today might just be a good day. Fuck knows he was due for one.

He paused outside the door, and took a moment to review his weapons. He had his big hunting knife strapped safe in his boot, and his Pa's old Beretta Jetfire in the back of his pants, concealed under his leather waistcoat. It might look like a like a little pussy gun, but Merle was good enough to make it deadly. Checks made, he listened against the door; he could hear Garza taking a piss.

_Good; like his ol' Master Gunny always said, if ya can't see a man's hands, tha next best thing is ta know what he's holdin'…_

…

Garza looked over his shoulder as he entered, shook himself off and began to do up his fly, "Hey, _vato_, you ready to do a little business?"

Merle wasn't letting his guard down, and still left a good few feet between them when he propped himself up against the sinks. "Sure. Where's ya brother, anyway? Ain't he runnin' interference fer ya today?"

"Tomas? Didn't you hear, man? Gone to stay at the country club! They gave him 15 years. Left me to run the family business."

"No shit." Merle didn't like Tomas Garza any more than he liked Mateo, but if you had the kind of special requirements he had, you had to make nice and deal with them.

Merle's version of nice, anyway.

"15 years, huh? What'd they get 'im fer?"

"Cut up some _piruja_ in an alley; bitch didn't have his money. Got carried away, then the pigs caught him in the fucking act! Women, they drive a man crazy, you know." He shot a knowing glance at Merle, which immediately put him on guard. "By the way, who's the little _mamacita _out there?

Merle scowled and didn't answer. He knew the Garza brother's had a sideline in pimping, but none of women working for them stayed pretty for long. The Garza boys had tempers, and Lord knows that was something no Dixon alive could judge them for, but they were both a little too handy with a blade for Merle's liking. Given his record, Tomas was lucky to have got off with 15.

Garza grinned at Merle's silence and pushed a little more. "I ain't never seen her before. Maybe..."

"She ain't workin'," snapped Merle, "so why don't ya file her under 'none a yer fuckin' business' 'n we can move on ta my fuckin' business. What ya got fer me?"

Garza's face went from stony to smiling in an instant, but it never reached his eyes. "Whatever you need, baby! I got uppers, I got downers. I got stuff to speed you up or slow you down…"

Merle watched carefully as Garza swung his courier bag around from behind his back and removed clear Ziploc bags of pills, powders and bottles, but he was already starting to tune out of the strange blend of English and Spanish. He idly wondered if this kind of spiel worked on him when he was high; maybe put the price up or something. It probably did, or Garza certainly wouldn't fuckin' bother. However, this time Merle had his head was on straight and a warm and willing woman waiting, so he wasn't going to waste time listening to some beaner spin him a fuckin' line.

"…nothin' but good shit, man; the best, make the world fly away..."

"I didn't ask fer ya whole fuckin' sales pitch," Merle interrupted, "I just wanna know wha' cha got."

Garza wasn't even fazed. "Okay, man, okay! You wanna cut to the chase, we can do that. I got X, meth, coke, benzos, hydros, little bit of brown sugar…"

"Don't wan' any of tha' shit wit' needles. Gimme what coke ya got, a bunch of them benzos and hydros… mebbe some meth…."

"_No mames! Muy _big spender, I can close up early tonight, huh _vato_? You going away or something?"

"Tha's right. Takin' the family yacht down ta tha Keys. Work on my tan." Merle wasn't about to discuss his and Daryl's business with some drug dealing spic. Though he realised with some surprise he'd told more to that damn girl in the bar. _Fuckin' women, _he thought unjustly,_ always askin' questions 'bout shit tha' don't concern 'em. _

"Yeah, all my clients are leaving town, man. People packing up their shit and getting the fuck out of town. Been doing deals 24/7, last few days. This epidemic, man? For a business man,_ está de puta madre! _"

Merle grunted a response, and as Garza talked he eyed up the stash and did the rough calculations in his head. _Like Dixon's give two shits what other fuckin' idiots are doin'._ He took out his wallet and counted out the money, trying not to let Garza see what was still left inside. Not that there was much.

"This about cover it?"

Garza sniffed and shot a quick look at Merle before looking back to the money. Mentally Merle shook his head in disgust. Garza had some kind of fucked up tic, so he always started sniffing when he was trying to pull something. Merle sometimes wondered why Tomas had never pointed it out to him, but he suspected a crazy sum'bitch like Tomas didn't read people real well.

"Sorry, _vato,_ price has gone up."

Merle carefully kept his face blank, and stood with both hands apparently tucked in his back pockets. Instead, he subtlety pushed his wallet and the money into the pockets, and just lightly rested his thumbs on his belt; he wanted his hands free and empty, at least for now.

"How much?" Merle kept his voice even, and made it about as non-threatening as it was possible for a Dixon's voice to be.

Garza sniffed again, wiping his nose with the back of his wrist. He named the new price.

Merle's even tone was short lived.

"THA FUCK?!" Merle tried to clamp down on his outrage.

"It's the going rate, _vato_…" Merle watch Garza's eyes flicker back and forth, rarely meeting his, never at rest.

"Don't piss on my leg an' tell me i's rainin'! Tha's three times what i's worth!" _Tha fuckin' wetback was tryin' ta rip him off. Him!_

"Hey, _cabron_, like I told you, everyone's leaving. Who am I gonna do business with when my clients have left town? Gotta have something to tide me over, man."

Merle's eyes narrowed. Sure, he could argue with Garza. He could argue that he'd only just told him that business was good. He could point out that for regular customer, Garza could make an exception. He could say that none of this epidemic shit would go on for long, and that his stuff wasn't going to spoil in that short time. Sure, he _could_ do all or any of that…

…_but no one fucked wit' tha Dixons an' went ta bed happy._

"Listen, ya little prick," Merle growled, "Here's how i's gonna go down. Yer gonna sell me my stuff at a fair price, ya hear me? The price I offered. An' yer gonna fuckin' like it." Garza's face was as blank as his, but something was shifting behind his eyes. Merle thought he could see the little devils dancing there, and he was ready for them. "And if you, or ya fuckin' taco bender brother ever even try ta rip me off again, I'm gonna…"

Merle didn't even get a chance to finish his threat as he saw Garza's hand move like lightening and come up with a knife. But Merle was quicker. He dodged the slash and was inside the reach of Garza's arm before the man knew what was happening. He neatly twisted Garza's wrist to make him drop the knife, both men shoving and struggling to unbalance each other. Garza was younger and taller, but Merle was stronger, and his Marine training blended well with his own uncompromising street fighter style. Garza soon lost his grip on blade, and as it clattered over the tiles into a corner he tried to bring his knee up into Merle's balls. It was a bad mistake.

Before, Merle was fighting because the situation demanded it; now Garza had gone and pissed him off.

Catching the attack on his thigh, he slammed his fist into Garza's nose, feeling a satisfyingly pulpy crunch as bone broke and tissue bled. Blinded by the pain of the impact, Garza was disorientated enough to allow Merle to grab his head using his long hair; yanking the Mexican around, he began smashing his face repeatedly into the hard Formica countertop.

However, Garza was by no means out of the fight, and as his skull ricocheted back off the plastic a third time he rammed his elbow hard into Merle's stomach. Merle was winded and staggered back, catching himself of one of the stall doors and wrenching it off the top hinge. It bought Garza only a few moments of respite, but Merle's respect for him rose slightly and his rage was tempered a little.

"Damn, boy, tha' weren't half bad. Not 'nough ta save ya o'course, but not bad. Why don't cha make it easy on yerself an'…"

Half blind, only keeping himself upright by clinging to the counter, Garza spat out a mouthful of blood into the sink. Merle heard the tinkling sound of teeth hitting the porcelain. "_Jodete!"_ lisped Garza, his lips bruised and bloody.

"Suit yerself," Merle replied indifferently, and came on again. Garza tried to surprise him with a roundhouse punch, but Garza was too dazed to keep it neat and telegraphed it a mile off. Merle blocked it easily and slammed home another left hook. Garza took it clear on the mouth and fell to the floor. Seeing his knife under one of the stall walls he went for it. This pissed Merle off again, and he stamped hard on his hand, twisting his foot for maximum agony and causing Garza to yelp in pain. Still enraged, Merle booted him in the side a few times, aiming more for the stomach than the kidneys; he didn't want to kill him, he just had to teach the boy some respect.

Merle then grabbed him by the hair, dragging him across the floor to the urinal trough set along one wall. He dropped Garza's head over the side, his throat resting on the rim. Garza found himself looking down at the trough's one filthy and forlorn urinal cake, crowned with a solitary pubic hair.

Merle hunkered down beside him. "Seems ta me ya need a lesson in manners, boy. Why don't we start by cleanin' out tha' dirty spic mouth a yers?" Merle shoved Garza's face towards the cake. "Eat it."

"_Vete a la chingada!" _The Mexican was slurring badly.

Merle pushed his head down into the urinal, increasing the pressure on the man's airway. "Ya need ta get them ears checked, boy. I said eat it!"

Garza raised one trembling and mangled hand and reached down into the trough. He picked up the cake and raised it to his mouth, while Merle piled on mocking encouragement."Mmm…there, doesn't tha' look good?... yeah, nearly there, boy…yum-my!"

Before it touched his lips, Garza passed out, dropping the cake as his head slumped into the stagnant piss that pooled there.

Merle stared at the unconscious man, scratching the stubble under his chin as he debated his next move. He could wake Garza up and force him to finish the job, but the truth was Merle's heart wasn't in it. He hadn't wanted to fight, he'd just wanted a nice day, an easy day. _Some drugs, a sweet lay. It wasn't too much ta ask, was it? Jus' one easy day?_

But life never gave Dixon's easy days. Life wasn't merciful. Life was hard; that's why Dixon's had to be hard, to survive it. He looked down at the unconscious man again, and made a decision.

Today, he was going to be merciful.

…

He dragged Garza off the trough and onto his back on the floor. Squatting down next to him, he pulled out his gun and proceeded to slap him round the face a few times with his other hand; just lightly, although that was a relative thing with a man like Merle. "C'mon… c'mon, sunshine… c'mon now…"

Garza's bloodshot eyes opened a crack, and a slightly panicked burbling noise came from his mouth and nose when he saw the gun.

"There ya go! Now, I know wha' cha thinkin', lyin' there on ya back in tha men's room wit' ya nose broke'n ya teeth all caved in. Ya thinkin 'Shit, man, I bought a knife ta a gun fight!" But that ain't it, boy; that ain't tha problem at all. Tha problem is ya just a man and ya come t'a Dixon fight! That's wha' cha done. An' that… well, tha's a fight ya ain't never gonna win, son. Only a Dixon can kill a Dixon."

Garza's gaze continued to be fixed on the gun; Merle followed it and gave a false start of surprise, as though he hadn't known it was there.

"Ya worried about this? Nah, yer don't got ta be worried, boy. I ain't gonna kill ya, an' fer two reasons. I don't rightly know as they're good reasons, but seein' as they're savin' ya worthless wetback ass, I'm figurin' ya ain't gonna mind too much. Firstly, I'm in what ya might call a good mood, 'cause in a minute I'm gonna be ankle deep in tha' sweet piece a pussy ya was admirin' out there. Tha's one. Two…"

Merle looked up as a young man in plaid shirt and a John Deer baseball cap entered the bathroom. He stopped on the threshold, one hand holding the door open, his widening eyes taking in the patches of blood around the room, the badly beaten and semi-conscious man lying on the floor, and the smiling man with the gun crouched next to him.

"Fuck off," said Merle cheerfully.

The man did so.

Rapidly.

Merle turned back to Garza and continued as though he hadn't been interrupted. "…I know what i's like ta have responsibility fer family. I gotta younger brother that I gotta look out fer, just like ya'self. Course, my brother's just a pussy, 'n yours is a fuckin' psycho tha' likes ta cut up women, but I ain't gonna argue that with ya 'cause I know how it is; ya gotta stan' by ya blood, ya kin! So I'm gonna let ya go. But I'm gonna finish what I was sayin' before ya interrupted by tryin' ta gut me, ya hear? You'n ya brother, ya ever try and stiff me again, ya try'n come after me, I'm gonna tear out ya heart wit' my fuckin' teeth, ya hear me? Nod if y'all understand."

There was a pause and a slight movement of Garza's head. "Well, tha's real reassurin'," said Merle, still smiling, and he punched Garza out again.

…

Merle ran his hand tiredly over his face. _Look at this fuckin' place, ya can't bring a woman like tha' in here. Blood all over the fuckin' floor…_

Merle had an idea. Grabbing the strap he pulled off Garza's bag of drugs, placing it on the sink counter. Then he grabbed the front of his shirt again and dragged him over the blood spills on the floor, allowing the Mexican's own vest and jeans to soak them up. Once he felt the residue was sufficiently reduced, he quietly dragged Garza out the back of the men's room, down the corridor and into the alleyway at the rear. He dropped him on some comfortable looking garbage bags before going back inside and surveying the remaining damage. The stall door was still hanging on by one hinge, which didn't look very good, so he solved that by ripping the door off completely and chucking it into the back corridor.

_Problem solved._

The blood in the urinal was contained in the trough, so he left it, figuring she wouldn't be using it unless he had badly fuckin' miscalculated… which just left the blood in the sink. As he went to wash it away, he felt the sting of the water on the back of his hand. With the adrenaline flowing, he hadn't noticed that he'd caught his knuckles on Garza's teeth.

_Fuckin' fight bite._

Immediately he began to work soap into the cuts, ignoring the sting. He knew men in the Corps who got into fist fights and left the cuts untreated, until their hands were so badly infected they had their fuckin' fingers amputated.

_Fuck if that was gonna happen ta him._

Trying to distract himself, he thought back to the woman waiting for him. _Katie, tha' was her name._ He couldn't believe his fuckin' luck.

_Woman'd been easy going, she'd joked wit' him, an' she'd called him on it if he crossed the line, but in a way that didn't make her seem like a total fuckin' bitch._ _He'd liked it, though knowin' he was gonna get some pussy a' tha end of it had probably been a big fuckin' factor._

He remembered the moment when she'd come onto him. _Goddamn, she'd not only suggested he could do better things wit' her tits than talk about them, but she'd leaned forward ta give him a better look at tha goods!_ It had almost seemed too good to be true, and he'd seriously thought about dragging her off to the john right then and there. Then she'd made some comparison to Merle Haggard, which had kinda pissed him off; did he really look that fuckin' old to her? He looked in the mirror. Dammit, he was only 42, just seven years older than Daryl…

_Hard livin', brother, ya done some damn hard livin'…an' it shows._

There'd been a few times when he'd been sure she was about to spoil it all and really fuckin' annoy him, like when she was going to compare Georgia with fuckin' New York, or when he'd stupidly mentioned squirrels. But then she'd said she _liked_ Georgia, no, fuckin' _loved_ it, and as for the squirrels… he wheezed a laugh… fuckin' guinea pigs! He wondered what other crazy shit she put in her mouth. _Come ta think of it, tha' gave him some ideas of his own…_

_Jesus, he couldn't wait ta get her up against that stall wall an' feel her pressed against him. That skin..!_ She'd looked so worried at the talk of the epidemic he'd though she was gonna bolt right then and there, so he'd caught her wrist as gently as he could to prevent it. _Her skin had felt so fuckin' soft an' smooth… _he'd started to run his fingers across it before realising that might freak her out the state she was in, so he'd switched mid stroke to an awkward patting motion in the hope she'd take it for some kinda friendly comfort bullshit.

Thinking of that little teasing smile she'd had on her face, those big dark blue-green eyes looking up at him, he gave up washing his cut. He had better things to be doing.

As he pushed open to door to leave, bag in hand, he looked back to double check the bathroom was now fit for her.

_Doors on tha stalls? Two outta three. _

_Blood stains on tha sink? Gone. _

_Blood stains on tha floor? Hmm, smeared but minimal. _

He grinned in satisfaction; _she'd prob'bly only notice them stains if she was lookin' fer 'em, an' he wasn't plannin' fer her ta be payin' much attention ta the fuckin' floor…_

…

Well, another long chapter and a little less humour, but I hope you enjoyed violent Merle! He will get nicer, I promise, but it will take time! Reviews feed my muse and are much appreciated.

Those who have seen Episode 2 of Season 3 of Walking Dead will of course know who Tomas is. And a small Rooker reference – not giving two shits is from his sterling work in Mississippi Burning.

Translations of the Mexican Spanish below, for which you can thank various pages Google found for me on Mexican-Spanish slang. Accuracy is therefore not guaranteed!

_Vato _– man, dude, bro

_Piruja_ – whore, hooker

_Mamacita_ – babe, hot girl

_No mames_ – You're shitting me

_Muy_ - very

_Está de puta madre! _– It's fucking awesome

_Cabron_ – asshole, dickhead

_Jodete! –_ Fuck you!

_Vete a la chingada! - _Go fuck yourself!


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

_One of the stalls? One of the stalls?! _The words kept running through Kate's head.

**_I suspect this is actually a tremendous compliment on his part,_** Shereen's voice butted in eventually, apparently tiring of listening to his last words on loop.

_You don't suspect anything, you're simply an aspect of my consciousness which has, rather annoyingly I might point out, decided to take on the persona of Shereen._

**_No, no, think about it, _**said the voice, dryly.**_ He could have just sat you on the sinks, or propped you up next to urinals... a private stall, it's really quite romantic, perhaps there'll be candles on the cistern…_**

_It's not funny…_

…**_you can help him adjust his ball-cock…_**

…_oh my God…_

…**_but why the men's room? The women's one is guaranteed to be empty in this place… oh! Perhaps it's like his private domain; maybe he's Atlanta's very own Fonz!_**

…_Shut up!_

**_Sit on it!_**

_A phrase that has taken on new and disturbing connotations in this context, so be quiet. Okay, okay, think Kate, think! There are two options; leave now...or stay. _

**_If you stay, he'll expect you to…_**

_I KNOW! But I'm not going to screw some stranger in the toilets. _

**_So leave. And I would suggest you do so soon, or he'll be back and then you're fucked; definitely figuratively, and possibly literally. _**

_I don't know, he's been quite fun and interesting. Running out on the guy, it seems so…so rude. _

**_Rude?! He hasn't bought you dinner in a nice restaurant…or even a drink in this sleazy bar, now I come to think about it, and he's still expecting you to help him prop up the wall! _**

_Yes, yes, I know all that, but he wasn't… nasty about it. I could just explain…_

**_Oh yes, _**said the voice of Shereen sarcastically,**_ clearly a man to be reasoned with! Need I remind you he's just gone in there to either buy or sell drugs? What if he's not just a dealer? So he's nice now, but what if he takes something in there and comes out tripping balls? Think he'll take rejection calmly? Maybe pay for your beer, call you a cab?_**

_Hmm…it's true, that is a consideration._

**_A consi… I give up! _**Kate had the distinct impression that Shereen's 'voice of reason' had left the building.

Logically, the sensible thing to do _was_ to leave. It would avoid awkward explanations and allow her to exit the scene with some dignity. It would also possibly avoid her being beaten to death by a large biker… _No, stop. That's not fair. Sure, he looks tough, and in a fight he would undoubtedly kick ass and take names, but once we started talking I didn't feel threatened for a second._ _But the drugs…that might make for a different story. If he was buying them, if he took them, people do crazy stuff when they're high…_

Mulling the situation over as she downed the last of her beer, she was regretfully making up her mind to leave when the door to the bar opened again and a small, person shaped tornado raced up to her.

"Quick, drink up! We've got to go, the bus is here!"

…

Shereen was very petite, but contained the nervous energy of a much larger person. She was slightly out of breath, and there was a sheen of sweat on her brown skin.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, the driver's being a total git. He told me he'd only wait ten minutes for us, and when I pointed out he was twenty minutes early, he said 'I don't give a shit, lady!"

"Really? That is one surly bus driver…did he sound like he was from New York?"

"Yes, and no, and now…" she looked at her watch, "it's taken me at least 3 minutes to get here, so pay up quick and we can walk back slowly. It's too bloody hot out there."

"Okay, I just need a minute…" She whipped out her purse and strode over to the bar. Cheryl was staring in resentful astonishment at Shereen, and Kate wondered if she could dislike this woman more. _You, madam, are a bitch, and_ _I'm glad you're a dried up minimum wage skank…_

She put a cheery smile on her face. "Hi, Cheryl isn't it? Here's what I owe you… by the way, do you have a serviette please?"

"Wha'?" asked a surprised Cheryl, looked confused.

"Ask for a napkin," said Shereen from behind her, "and why do you want one?"

"Do you have a napkin?" Kate asked again slowly, starting to lose hope at Cheryl's expression. However, although she did so with ill-concealed distain, Cheryl did reach below the bar and take out a yellowing paper napkin. Obviously Dusty's clientele rarely felt the need to clean up anything spilt here; Kate suspected what was usually spilled here was blood, in which case they probably had bigger concerns.

"Many thanks. Now, Shereen, lend us a pen please."

"What? Why?!" Said Shereen confused, but reaching into her bag all the same. "What are you doing?"

"I need to leave a message to someone I met," responded Kate, ignoring Shereen's disapproving yet unsurprised grunt and scribbling quickly on the napkin, "I just need two minutes. How long before we have to leave?"

"Uhh…one minute."

"Shit. Alright…," she wrote for a little longer, with Shereen almost hopping with nerves beside her, before stopping and folding the napkin up. "That will have to do, I suppose," she said as she shoved the napkin under Merle's half empty beer. Then, moving so Cheryl wouldn't be able to see from her position at the bar, she took out the last of her dollars from her purse and shoved them under the napkin.

"Come on, come on, what are you doing…?!" whined Shereen.

"Okay, let's go."

"God, we'll have to walk fast now, you're such a bitch to me…" moaned Shereen as they moved quickly towards the door.

"Oh come on, you know you love it when I make your life more exciting," grinned Kate as they stepped out into the burning heat of the afternoon, "and I'm going to make it up to you when I tell you what happened this afternoon…"

…

Barely a minute later, Merle came back into the bar. He looked around and couldn't see Katie.

_Fuckfuckfuck…wait, maybe she'd gone to the restroom._ He turned to Cheryl; "Hey, where'd she go?"

_Please Jesus, let tha answer be restroom…_

Cheryl had a smug look in her eye and a prim look to her mouth like she was trying not to laugh. "Ya missed her. She jus' left, mebbe a minute ago. All but _ran_ out of here."

_Tha' fuck? Goddammit! Fuck! FUCK! _

Merle slumped down in his seat despondently, before viciously kicking over the chair she'd been sitting in.

"Hey," yelped Cheryl, "don't ya dare mess up tha place!"

"Fuck you," Merle responded, and though Cheryl said nothing he knew he'd burned that bridge. He couldn't say he cared much. _Bitch._

_Ran out?_ _He'd been gone mebbe 10 minutes, wha' tha hell could'a happened?_ _Shit, he couldn't a' scared her off, could he? Naw, she was up fer it… or made out she was._ _Fuckin' cocktease._

He reached for his beer, and knocked the last half back in one go, knowing it wouldn't be enough to… he stopped mid thought as he noticed that there was a fuckin' napkin tucked under his beer, which had now unfolded on the table. He didn't think Cheryl would have put it there; Dusty's didn't have a lot a time for niceties. He looked closer; it appeared to have writing on. He put the bottle aside and pulled the napkin towards him; as he did so, something shifted under it. He lifted it slightly to reveal…_huh?_

Merle was completely confused but, being Merle, the first thing he did was quickly take the money, count it and put it in his wallet.

_Forty bucks, not bad._

Then he picked up the napkin; it had been folded in four, and there was a large letter M on one of the outside squares. _Guess i's fer me. _He opened it and read the contents.

**Merle, I'm so sorry, I have to go. My friend came because the bus arrived. To make up for running away I've left the last of my money so you can buy yourself some beer to compensate. It was lovely meeting you, good luck and good hunting. **

**Kate, a.k.a. 'Sugatits' **

_Well, fuck me…_

Merle reread it, but it didn't help. His feelings were still conflicted, which made him distinctly uncomfortable; he liked it better when he was either happy, which normally meant he was drunk or high, or pissed. That was when people got outta his way or hurt. But this whole fuckin' thing just confused him. Firstly, he couldn't believe that the dumb bitch had given him the last of her money, like he was a fuckin' charity case. _Why would anyone jus' give away money fer nothin'?_ Plus she'd run off and not fucked him. That counted towards pissed, and he understood pissed. It was familiar. But then…

…she _hadn't_ _just_ run off. She'd written him a note; and if he was a pussy like the guys she probably fucked around with back home, he might have thought it was… well, sorta nice. She'd all but said she liked him, and given him enough credit to assume he could read, and even handle three syllable words. She'd _given_ him money…_she hadn't loaned it, she hadn't owed it to him_… she'd just fuckin' given it, and _told_ him to spend it on alcohol. _Alcohol!_ _And wha' wit' givin' him forty bucks ta do it, tha' was all but orderin' him ta get shit faced drunk! It jus' didn't make any fuckin' sense. _

_There was a catch, had ta be_. _He jus' needed ta work out wha' tha fuck it was._

He reread the note a third time, and a phrase caught his eye before he shoved it into his pocket and stood up to leave...

**My friend came because the bus arrived.**

He smirked. _Tha's a pretty fuckin' impressive bus. Still, a' least someone got ta come today._

…

They were sitting next to each other on the bus, and Shereen had a slightly knowing smile on her face. "So, tell me about this man then."

"I never said…!"

"It's always a man," Shereen interrupted. "So what was this one's particular brand of crazy?"

Kate maintained a creditably straight face. "Oh, he was perfectly normal…_although…_ before you arrived he _was_ going to take me for sex in the toilets."

"What?!" Shereen bolted upright, staring at Kate.

"Yes, I must admit I'm not sure what happened there; I did rather lose control of the situation at that point."

"You told him no though, right? Kate? _Kate_?!"

"Well…"

"Oh my god…"

"I did _think_ it! I was just too shocked to say anything. But apart from that, he was very interesting. With more time I feel sure there was a fascinating discussion to be had on the correct preparation of squirrel meat for the modern consumer."

"Another crazy," muttered Shereen. "Hmm. Well, at least tell me he was stunningly good looking. And don't think I didn't see you leaving that money"

"I'd only have to change it when we got home, and it's just bother. Plus you never get as good a rate."

"Uh-huh. So, the man with your money now burning a hole in his pocket… extremely hot or not?"

"Umm…"

Shereen gave an exaggerated sigh. "Another dog then…"

"No! I mean, he wasn't handsome…but he was, well…"

"Hung like a donkey?"

"Shereen! You realise that everyone on the bus is listening to this conversation now?"

"It's more likely they were listening from 'sex in the toilets', but I don't care. Continue."

"I suppose," Kate fumbled for a way to describe Merle, "he wasn't _conventionally_ attractive. I would say he was…hmm… strangely compelling..."

"Dog," interrupted Shereen in an uncompromising a voice, and having lost interest she went to sleep.

…

When Kate was sure Shereen was asleep, she muttered to herself with a small smirk, "… though since you ask, from what I could see I'm pretty sure he _was _hung like a donkey..."

…

As Merle drove back home, forty bucks worth of beer cans stacked in the passenger seat next to him, he realised what the catch was. The half full bottle of Jack Daniels in his lap had helped, as he knew it would.

"I know wha' cher up ta!" He slurred cheerfully, wagging a finger in up towards tha sky. "Tha tits, tha legs, tha free booze. Ya tryin' ta punish ol' Merle, aren't ya, JC? Yeah! Ya think I'm a bad man, don't cha, ya hippy dipshit? Ya think yer showin' me what I can't have...like' i's what I want or somthin'…somthin' nice like that."

He paused, suddenly worried that he _hadn't_ identified the catch, and that maybe he wasn't making much sense. _But he was in a fight, and Dixon's didn't back down from a fight, not wit' anyone._ "Yeah. Tha's it. But ya know what, JC, ya fuck? I would'a still liked her even if she wer'a whore." He reached down and took another long swig; the police had bigger things to worry about now than DUIs. He frowned slightly, and continued talking to himself.

"In fact, I would'a liked her better. Least then I could'a just paid her an' got laid…"

…

And so, my wonderful reviewers and followers, this is where we leave our characters and return to the zombie apocalypse in the next chapter. Many thanks for your lovely reviews – I hope you continue to enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoy writing it.

Also, I'm just going to be cheeky and pimp my other Walking Dead Story, 'Shame.' It started out as a one-shot and is very different to this in tone, but you never know, you might like it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

_The present…_

"Awww, you remember…."

'_Course he fuckin' remembered. Not tha name, obviously, but i's hard to forget a woman ya only get two minutes away from fuckin' at tha end of a long dry spell, 'specially when she lets ya buy enough beer ta have baby bro askin' where ya stole it. Tha lil' prick wouldn't even believe 'im when he tol' him wha' happened. His own fuckin' brother! _

_If he hadn't been so drunk when he got back, he might ha' beaten some respect in ta tha lil' bastard._

"Yeah, darlin', I remember ya. Seems i's a small apocalypse after all. Though if ya come ta ask fer ya money back, gotta tell ya I've gone an' left my wallet in my other pants."

"A likely excuse…!" she laughed. It was hard to see in the half light, but he could feel the happiness radiating off her. "Damn, I'm just so glad to see you! Well, _anyone_ when you come to…._ohmygod _what happened to your _hand_?!"

Merle feigned surprise, "Shit, I thought my golf swing was off!"

"Fuck, don't _joke_! You poor sod…" she actually sounded upset, and began to move closer to him, but then she stiffened and backed away slightly. He knew what she was thinking, and given the heavy looking crowbar she still held in her hand, he quickly answered her unspoken question.

"I ain't bit, since ya wonderin'."

"You're not…" she said cautiously, not quite asking but with doubt clear in her voice.

"Tol' ya, I _ain't_ fuckin' bit."

She raised her hands, palms out in a placating manner. "Alright, no need to get excited," she said calmly." She paused, staring at him as though considering something, and he felt his temper rise at the thought she would ask him again.

However, what she said next shocked him rather than annoyed him.

"I only ask as I… err…I happen to have some of the cure in my bag…"

…

Merle just stared at her, completely dumbstruck.

_Tha fuck?_

"…anyway, I was happy to share, but since you don't need it, we'll save it for an emergency."

"_Wha'_ tha…how tha _fuck_ do ya have a cure?" Some small part of his brain that was still working noticed she was watching him very closely.

"Oh, umm… they started handing it out at the refugee center I was at. Or survivor center, I suppose you might call it. Weren't a lot of survivors by the end though… the place got overrun before they could properly distribute the stuff. I managed to grab a few samples before I pegged it out of there."

"Shit…," he said, blowing out a breath. _What tha fuck else was there ta say?_ He supposed it was good news that there was a cure in case he got bit, but he felt a flare of irritation at her. _Dumb bitch, handin' out information like tha' was gonna get her ass killed. Probably fuckers out there that'd shoot her fer it, prepared ta share or not. _

"So, you're absolutely _sure_ you're not bitten?"

"_Fuck_ woman, I said _no!_"

"Great, I believe you," she said, perking up suddenly. "Well, since you aren't bitten, would you care for something to eat?"

_Care for sumthin' ta eat? End a' tha fuckin' world an' she still talked like they was at a fuckin' tea party._

"Yeah, ya got sumthin'?" Merle wasn't exactly hungry, but he was still a little lightheaded, never mind sick and irritable. If he could get some food and keep the damn stuff down, it would probably help.

She dropped her duffel bag off her shoulder, and laying down the crowbar she began to rifle through the contents. After a moment she held out some plain looking cookies to him. "There, start with those and we'll have something more when we've cleaned this place out."

On hearing that little titbit, he paused in the process of laying down his axe. "Ya don't know if they're in here?"

"I killed two getting in, but there may be more. Hang on," she reached down and shoved a couple of the cookies into the left hand pocket of his jeans. She clearly didn't intend it to be suggestive, but he'd been without a woman's touch near his crotch for long enough to study the gesture with considerable interest.

"Now," she said straightening, "if you come with me, you can bring your axe and keep an eye on the bags while you have some food; there are more biscuits in my bag if you want them." She hoisted up her bag, and continued, "You'll be nearer the door if there's trouble. There are still zombies out in the street, but few enough for us to make a break past if we need to." Clearly assuming he would agree, she turned and began to walk along the dark corridor. He followed, silently fuming.

_Look after tha fuckin' bags, woman? Do I look like a fuckin' Skycap?_

In a fit of temper, he decided whatever shit they encountered, she could deal with it on her fuckin' lonesome.

As they moved from the corridor into the main body of the building, he realised he was in an older, medium sized department store. There were small semi-circular windows high in the front wall, and by their light he could see the ground floor was dedicated to furniture like sofas and tables and dressers. There was also a central flight of stairs going up. The large shop front windows were shuttered with modern security shutters, but the door between them was uncovered. It must have been the way she came in, as the bodies of two walkers lay near it, but he was surprised she hadn't locked it or pulled the shutter down over it behind her. She dropped her bag near the end of the corridor they'd just emerged from, and when he saw her move into the light his heart sank a little.

He didn't know how a woman could look bad when she was dressed head to toe in fuckin' leather, but somehow she'd achieved it. The motorcycle leathers she'd picked didn't match, the trousers being grey and the jacket being dark blue, and they fitted her badly. Worse, her body seemed thicker than before.

_Fuckin' typical, I meet tha one woman who's managed ta put on weight during tha apocalypse. Mebbe he'd be doin' her a favour by eatin' her fuckin' cookies._

However, he was marginally more impressed by the fact she seemed armed to the teeth with knives, which were duct taped to her boots, thighs and back.

He looked around and saw a plush looking armchair nearby. Unfortunately it was upholstered in deep pink velour with a golden fringe. Merle resented the fact that he might have to sit in something that was clearly designed either by or for a fuckin' pillow biter, but there was nothing else that looked as comfortable nearby, so he scuffed the bags across the floor towards it and slouched down into the soft cushions.

_Fuck yesss…._

Hooking his foot around a small but expensive silk covered footstool on casters, he allowed himself the perverse pleasure of crossing his dirty boots on it and watched as she strode to the bottom of the stairs. He saw her pull two deadly looking curved blades from behind her and bang them together gently three times, the metal clinking in the silence.

They waited, hoping…

… no such luck. They heard movement.

_Shit._

…

He looked back to the woman. Her face was strained but calm, and she began to move a small chest of drawers to the bottom of the stairs, intending to slow whatever was up there down.

_Smart thinkin'… tha woman might actually be able ta handle herself. _

Merle sat up and watched as he saw some geeks totter towards the head of the stairs. Two were… or had been… a man and a woman in their thirties, well dressed with name badges. They started to stagger down, moaning a little. A little way behind them followed an elderly man and woman, also with name badges. They were slower and a little more unsteady. He suspected this had been a family business and for whatever reason, they had taken refuge in their store. His thoughts were interrupted but confirmed by the arrival at the stairs of a young boy, perhaps ten or eleven. He was probably the slowest because a large portion of his left thigh was stripped down to the bone, causing him to drag the leg awkwardly behind him.

"Five… umm… okay, five…" She sounded nervous.

_Well, soundin' nervous didn't technically count as askin' fer help… and if she was gonna jus' assume tha' Merle Dixon was some kinda fuckin' invalid, he wasn't gonna get his ass bit jus' ta prove her wrong. _

_Still… even if tha bitch had let herself go, she was his best shot at pussy in tha foreseeable future… so… per'aps… if it looked like she was really in deep shit…_

Satisfied, he relaxed back into the chair and took the cookies out. He began to munch contentedly and watched as she took out the woman geek with a sharp blow straight down into her skull, before pushing the drawers into the man and trapping him under them as she sliced down across the bridge of his nose and into the brain. She pulled the chest back upright and began to back up, preparing to take out the old couple who had come down the stairs closer together.

As the geeks attacked, Merle considered her fighting ability. She certainly wasn't graceful; her movements were a little stilted, and it was apparent to anyone with a military background like him that she had no training whatsoever. She either missed or deliberately avoided more risky opportunities to take them out early, favouring caution and waiting for a safer moment to strike. Used to fighting in a range of environments, Merle also spotted ways she could have used the space and furniture more strategically. Still, overall she seemed smart and relatively fit, and as efficient as could reasonably be expected from someone who'd obviously had to teach herself on the fly in only a few weeks.

_Good ta know tha' if they were attacked, she might not be a total fuckin' burden. _

Merle continued watching complacently as she eventually pinned the woman to the wall by her neck, driving one of her blades in her throat. She was prevented from finishing the job as the old guy chose that moment to attack. As he saw her dodge nimbly under the geeks outstretched arm, Merle absently pondered the oddness of the cookies. They were very dry, which was good since it would make it easier for him to keep them down, but they had a strange powdery taste… he couldn't quite place it. As he reached into the bag to get the rest of them, he heard a yelp.

He looked up quickly to find the woman was pinned on her back to the floor by the old man, and since she was holding both of his hands away awkwardly she was unable to bodily throw him off.

"Help!" she panted breathlessly.

Merle's mind operated lightning fast. _Sure, he could help her, but wha' tha fuck would she do if he weren't there? If they were gonna be together fer a while, or a' least until he got fuckin' laid, then he needed ta know tha bitch had his back. Or a' least wouldn't jus' get him stupidly killed. Also, he was pretty sure she hadn't noticed tha geek kid had now made it ta tha bottom of tha stairs, an' was about ta head towards her._

_Tough love, brother, tough love._

He swallowed the bite of cookie he was chewing, and instructed calmly, "Drop ya left arm ta tha side an' roll 'im over. Then ya can take 'im out."

"_What_?!" she yelped, rolling her eyes up to look at him.

"Drop ya arm an' roll 'im," he stated, making a helpful circular gesture with the remnants of his last cookie. "Stab tha bastard in tha head."

As she began to do so, Merle quietly booted the footstool across the floor and into the feet of the kid geek, tripping the little shit-streak up so he fell. That bought her some time but the woman seemed not to notice this; she was too busy rolling on top of the geek and taking him out with a fuckin' knife through the eye. Just as she knelt and pulled her blade out of the man's skull, the kid righted himself and began to stagger towards her, groaning. Reacting quickly to the presence of the new walker, she simply stabbed up through his jaw, and as he gurgled away she gently lowered him to the ground. Looking drained, she stood slowly, went back to the woman and finished her with another jab to the eye, before reclaiming her curved knife from its throat.

She walked back over to Merle, who was searching around in her bag for the box of cookies. It wasn't so easy with one hand. Merle could tell she was pissed, but also confused. Still feeling nauseous and therefore irritable, he couldn't resist adding to her confusion and irritation a little more by shooting her a self-congratulatory grin. He could tell it worked.

"I don't…weren't you going to _help_ me? Were you just sitting there the whole time?" Unfortunately she sounded not only confused but a little hurt, and Merle forced himself to ignore it.

"I did help ya. An' fuck no, I ain't _just_ been sittin' here; I been eatin' all ya nasty ass cookies. Not often I get dinner an' a show." He stopped and looked up at her deepening frown. _It was odd, but despite the extra weight she seemed to be carrying, her face was still good. Maybe it was still worth keeping her sweet. _"Look, I could tell ya had yer shit together. An' if ya didn't, I s'pose I would'a helped ya out."

"Oh, _surely_ you wouldn't have got out of the chair?!" she said dryly. "I wouldn't want my life or death struggle to inconvenience you."

"Naw, ain't no trouble fer a sweet thang like yerself!" He turned back to her bag, "An if ya wanna thank me, I'll jus' point out tha' these pants open up real easy…"

She snorted slightly, still watching him closely for a few moments. Suddenly a look of dawning comprehension crossed her face, and she asked in a smooth tone, "Did I pass? Or did your slowing that boy down count as a fail?"

Merle shot her a narrow look, attempting to mask his surprise, and she gave annoyed gasp. "Oh my God, you _were_ testing me, weren't you? Seeing if I could handle myself, of if I was going to drag you down with me?" At his reluctant smile, she grinned wryly at him, as though reading his thoughts. "I'm not stupid you know. I just _happen_ to have superb boobs that make me look that way."

_Well fuck me, seems ya ain't stupid, are ya?_

He nodded. "Yeah, ya passed. Just."

"I'm _so_ pleased to hear it," she said dryly, before eventually adding, "but… thanks, I suppose… for the help."

He nodded shortly and after some more rummaging, he pulled the box of cookies from the bag. Immediately his grin turned into a frown, then a scowl. "Wha' tha _fuck_ is _this,_ woman?"

"I picked them up in a health food store. They're biscuits."

He stared at the colourful outer packaging, and his anger grew at the thought she'd been mocking him all this time. "These _ain't_ fuckin' _biscuits_!" he said, mimicking her accent. "These are… they're…" He could hardly bring himself to say it.

"They're biscuits. Back home we call them Rusks. You know, for kids."

The adorable diapered teddy that smiled innocently up at him from the front of the box only fuelled Merle's outrage.

"Ya been feedin' me fuckin' _baby food_, woman?"

"No, I've been feeding us _both_ baby food. If you think about it, they're portable, long lasting and high in calories while also being fortified with vitamins. I don't know about you, but I've been having trouble getting a balanced diet lately." Merle stared stonily at her, looking for any sign in her face that she was laughing at him. However, her gaze was clear and serious. "You don't _have_ to have them you know. I just thought…since you were injured..." As he continued to frown, her voice turned softer. "Look, I was just trying to be helpful. Don't be angry with me."

_Ya fuckin' weak, brother. Always gotta soft spot fer tha bitches._

"Aww, fuck it," he sighed. "I s'pose i's alright, I guess…"

It happened so fast there was nothing either of them could do. There was a flurry of movement from a nearby stock room and suddenly a toddler with curly hair and a pretty blue dress was sinking its teeth deep into the back of the woman's thigh.

Merle leapt up in startled horror as, too late, she whipped around, knocking it back to the floor and plunging a knife snatched from her boot into its forehead.

"_Christ_, woman! Jesus _fuckin' _Christ…"

_Ya always gotta show off, brother. Ya coulda helped her clear tha place, been more alert, on guard… but ya always too fuckin' cocky. An' now she's gonna pay fer it._

_Now ya gonna have ta kill her._

….

That's right, after all that build up I've killed Kate. The rest of the story is just Merle wandering around the apocalypse mourning her. ;)

Seriously though, I think we all know Kate's not going to die… however, the resolution may not be what you suspect. Also, apologies for the long wait, this one was tricky. My only act of contrition is to say that the next chapter is mostly written and will be up in only a few days - it will also be a little more humourous again. In the meantime, do please review, it is much appreciated.

And I hope my readers over in the US enjoy Thanksgiving!


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Kate sighed as she tried to check the damage to the back of her leg.

_Oh, bollocks._ _And it had all been going so well…_

_All those weeks since the horror at the airport, and she'd just started to feel she was making a reasonable go of surviving the zombie apocalypse. Now, some bloody little scroat had bitten her arse._

_It really was most annoying._

_However, on the bright side, she'd finally encountered another human being. Incredibly, given the circumstances, it was Merle; the person with whom she'd had one of her last normal…well, normal for her… interactions before the world seemed to go to shit. She didn't know what he was doing here; Kate vaguely seemed to recollect him saying he was leaving town, plus he looked pretty messed up with his missing hand and a feverish look in those blue eyes. She'd even thought he might be infected, which would mean their reunion would have to be tragically short lived… _

_However, she was now satisfied that whatever had happened to him, he wasn't infected, and Kate was surprised at how glad she was that he was the first person she had encountered. Not only was he someone she knew, but someone she knew was actually nice… well... at least someone who she knew wasn't going to immediately try and kill her like all the other people she'd encountered, assuming you could still call the dead that. _

She looked back around and was concerned to find Merle looking slightly sicker than before. Of even more concern was the fact he'd picked up the fire axe again.

_Oh, bloody hell…_

_**Spoke too soon, didn't you?**_

_It would appear so._

_**You were right though, he does have a massive chopper…**_

_Dammit, Shereen, not now…_

"Merle, I can't help but notice you have what appears to be an _unnecessarily_ _large_ fire axe in your hand," she said, keeping her voice even and backing away slowly. "Now, I know what you're thinking, but let's all just take a breath shall we? We don't want to do anything hasty."

He advanced on her, his face pale but determined in the gloomy light. "Look woman, jus'… jus' close ya eyes an' I'll make it quick. Ya won't even feel it."

_**Ha! I bet he says that to…**_

_You know, if my brains get splattered all over the floor, you're going to be splattered with them?_

_**Hmm. A good point, and well made…. if you want me, I'll be cowering behind your medulla oblongata.**_

"Merle," she tried again, holding out her hands to him, "honestly, you don't have to do this. Now, if you put down the axe, I'll prove it to you."

She realised that that she still held the knife from her boot in one gloved hand; it was obvious to anyone that it would be little protection against a large man with an axe, but surprisingly Merle stopped a few feet away, eyed the knife and simply shook his head. Kate thought she could see the regret in his eyes, but his face was grim and his voice flat.

"Ain't no help fer it, woman, ya gonna turn. Wish it were different, but it ain't."

_Shit, shit, shit… okay, desperate times…_

"Right, okay, well… how about we make a deal? Here, I'll put down the knife as a show of good faith…"

_There we go, _she thought_, _placing the knife slowly on the floor_, it's like releasing a hostage. Shows that I'm committed to making this work; and given the circumstances, I really, really am…_

"…let's say I _am_ bitten. I'm not going to turn right away, am I? So, perhaps you could _defer_ burying that axe in my head just long enough to let me explore an alternative outcome with you?"

_That's it. No sudden movements. Keep your voice calm, reasonable, professional. _

Merle stared hard at her, before swinging the axe up. Kate tensed, but he merely brought it to rest casually on his shoulder.

"Ya got five minutes…"

_You see, Shereen? Merle's a good guy…_

"…then ya gonna wan' ta close ya eyes."

_Oh…_

"Thank you, really. That's all I need. And believe me, if I was bitten, I wouldn't be fighting like this. I think I'd _want _you to stop me… err, turning. But you won't have to."

Kate was slightly impressed at how Merle made even a small grunt sound cynical without his expression changing, but then his eyes narrowed suspiciously as he remembered something. "Hey! Yeah, tha's right… ya said ya had a fuckin' cure. Tha' wha' this is about?"

"Umm… let's come back to that. Now, I'm going to turn my back to you, so please don't stab me in it… or whatever it is you do with an axe." She turned slowly, hands still raised so he could see they were empty. Then she bent very slightly at the waist, looking at him over her shoulder.

"Now… treasure this moment Merle, because I don't intend to say this often; check out my arse…"

…

Merle blinked, then dropped his eyes to stare fixedly at her arse. Kate might have been more embarrassed if she hadn't been so nervous; it was surprisingly difficult to turn your back on an armed man, even more so when you were deliberately inviting him to stare at your bum. However, she continued to speak in a calm, reasonable voice.

Well, as best she could from that position, anyway.

"Since she was just a kid, it was impossible for her jaw to exert enough pressure for her teeth to pierce the leather. So, since there is no hole, I can't be infected." After a moment she began to turn around.

"Stay _there_!" Merle barked suddenly, and she instinctively froze. He went to stand behind her, the axe still resting on his shoulder. Kate tried not to flinch but it was difficult, and she did gasp when he casually transferred the axe to the crook of his bad arm and ran his hand over the area where she'd been bitten, stretching out the leather. She tolerated the first exploration, then the second, but when he went for a third check she drew the line.

"Alright mister, it's not braille. You've completed a more than thorough inspection. So?"

Merle stood back and gave her a look that managed to be both hard and sympathetic. "There's a puncture," he said flatly.

"What?! No!" Without a second's hesitation she kicked off her boots and dragged off her leathers.

Kate held the trousers up against the light. "Dammit, there _is_ a hole! How…?" She quickly bent down to the corpse of the toddler and pulled back its lips. "Dammit, she had a broken tooth…that's what punctured the leather."

She looked up to find that although Merle had automatically transferred the axe back to his hand, it's head rested ignored on the floor as he stared in undisguised astonishment at her legs.

"Ahh, said Kate, I see you've noticed my back up plan..."

…

"Why in tha _fuck_ are ya wearing white silk….," he shook his head, and she wasn't sure if he was searching for the right word or was just fighting having to say it, "…pyjamas?"

"Ah ha, but these are _not_ pyjamas. This is zombie armour," she responded, trying and failing to look appropriately serious.

Merle looked her incredulously in the eye for a moment…

…then back at the 'pyjamas'…

…then at the axe.

The smile vanished as Kate guessed what he was thinking, and unlike when he'd given her instructions to fight off the zombie, this time she didn't resent it. Hell, if she was him, she'd probably be thinking she'd gone completely batshit crazy too.

_Obviously, smiling had been a bad idea. She was clearly still well within 'calm and reasonable voice' territory._

"Merle, I genuinely haven't snapped under the pressure of the zombie apocalypse and weeks of isolation; I'm quite sane."

Kate thought she heard a faint _**Ha...**_ echo from the back of her skull, but she ignored it.

"Also, I'm still well inside my five minutes, so just let me explain. Okay?"

Merle nodded slowly, looking dubious, and Kate took a breath, trying to organise the thoughts in her head.

"Well, when I grasped that this virus was being spread by bites and scratches, I realised the best way to protect myself was to design some kind or armour. Bare skin was too risky…"

Kate deliberately kept her eyes on his face, forbidding them to stray to the bare arms that Merle's leather waistcoat and t-shirt so casually exposed to danger.

_Hmm. Apparently in the zombie apocalypse, sleeves are for the weak…_

"…I also knew it needed to be fairly flexible and light, since this place is too bloody hot and I might need to run about a bit in it. So, logically some kind of strong fabric was in order. You follow?"

Merle nodded; he was frowning intently but he was making no moves to use the axe.

"I tried taking a Kevlar vest off a dead policeman, but with my…umm…_liberal _proportions up top, it was just too uncomfortable. That left something leather as the obvious choice, but even that wasn't a guarantee, as we've just seen. I needed something else to be sure. Fortunately, I remembered reading on the internet that historically, silk had been used for armour…"

"Tha's fuckin' stupid," interrupted Merle. "Silk is… well, i's fuckin' _silk_, isn' it? Hell, I've tore through plenty o' silk in my time," he added, a reminiscent look creeping across his face.

"Hmm… yes, I'm sure you have," said Kate, unable to prevent herself smiling slightly, "but I suspect memories of _your_ sexual escapades are not going to fit into the five minutes you've given me, so if you don't mind we'll skip them for now. Anyway, samurai used silk under their main armour which was strong enough to stop bullets…"

"Bullshit..." Merle began, so Kate just raised her eyebrow haughtily until he huffed and shrugged for her to continue.

"The composition of silk means that, when using multiple layers, is very hard to penetrate. If memory serves, I believe that it could stop bullets up to a velocity of 300 feet per second…"

"Hell, tha' can't be right. Tha's a piss poor velocity even fer a handgun."

Kate sighed and rolled her eyes at a further interruption. "I'm sure it was _perfectly_ good in the eighteenth century or whenever, but yes, it did stop working once guns got more advanced. However, I didn't need it to stop bullets. I suspected a zombie couldn't bite me with the same force as bullet from a gun, even an old gun. So, when I spotted a fabric shop, I broke in and made my zombie armour. Unfortunately I'm not the best seamstress in the world, and if you looked closely you'd see the construction is pretty appalling. However, it's four layers of silk under hardwearing reinforced motorcycle leathers, which should be pretty successful at preventing infection from most bites. _And so_…" she said with a flourish, turning around again, "I believe you will see there is no puncture through the silk."

When Merle quickly transferred the axe to his bad arm to have a look, Kate was again fairly confident. However, she soon discovered that having a man run his warm hand over your posterior when it was covered in motorcycle leathers was a very different experience to when you only have a few layers of thin silk and some worn cotton knickers. She shivered a little at the sensation, and once he'd had a few seconds to inspect the area she quickly turned and took a step away.

"Umm…so, satisfied?" She saw his eyes warm back up and a smirk slowly stretch across his face. Kate had the uncomfortable realisation that, even after all this, she was starting to grin back. _Damn him._ "I _meant_ that I'm not infected?"

"Thinkin' I'll take ya word fer now," he drawled slowly, "though mebbe later we could have ourselves a closer inspection?"

"Sorry, Merle," she responded, still grinning, "I'm afraid you'll just have to take your chances."

"Hack."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Hack," he said again calmly, "ya hack someone ta death wit' an axe."

"Oh… yes, of course, now you say it… but I assume you're not going to hack me to death now? Because I should point out that would really be a bit of deal breaker for any future friendship."

He was still grinning slightly. "Figure I can let ya live a lil' longer."

"Very generous, I'm sure." She began to pull the trousers back on. "Well, shall we explore the rest of this place together?"

"Ya gotta put on them fuckin' ugly pants?"

"I think it would be best," Kate said as she tugged on her boots, "unless you want to go through all this again?"

"Hell, already said I don't mind checkin' ya fer bites again."

"I'll bet. Still, we can't hope I'll be bitten in the arse every day, can we? Anyway, I got the impression you'd gone off me when you left me to fend for myself against that zombie…"

At the time, Kate had been shocked and extremely pissed when he'd sat there like a king on a throne and issued instructions… _while waving that damn biscuit she'd given him at her too, the cheeky fucker!_ She'd been genuinely scared and there Merle was, calmly telling her what to do rather than physically piling in. However, she hadn't missed the baby blue silk footstool that whizzed past her peripheral vision and tripped up the zombie she'd heard shuffling towards her, slowing him down enough to let her finish off the first. The technique he'd told her to use on the one that had her pinned had worked well too… so he _had_ helped her, but not in the ways she'd expected.

Kate realised, though it took some considerable mental agility on her part, that in some way Merle wanted to see in some way if she was going to threaten his survival. Although she was still pretty annoyed and wouldn't dream of confirming her suspicions to his face, she felt sure she had understood his viewpoint; this new world was tough and if she had only one hand left to protect her, she wouldn't want to constantly use it defending other people. However, just as she was beginning to come around to forgiving him, Merle had to open his mouth and speak.

"Yeah well, didn't have so much incentive. Wit' them fuckin' ugly clothes on ya, thought ya'd gone an' let ya'self go."

"_What?!_"

"Yeah, ain't nothin' worse than a pretty girl goin' ta shit."

Kate gave Merle a shocked glance, and saw the same grin he'd given her after she had dispatched the zombies alone and basically asked him what the hell he was playing at. Something about it was off, and it set her thinking. _It's different to his usual grin; it looks… hungry somehow, like he's looking for something… to deliberately provoke me maybe?_ _I believe you may be a bit of a shit stirrer, Merle, but why?_

Kate gave up in the face of the psychological conundrum that was Merle and pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation. "Oh my God…okay, I can't… I can't even deal with that right now. Just don't ask me to make _you_ any zombie armour."

She could see it the moment his grin became one of genuine good humour. "Woman, if I was wanderin 'round Georgia in white silk pyjamas, I'd fuckin' _beg _ya ta kill me."

"They _aren't_ pyjamas, and I suspect some of your more conservative fellow Georgians might kill you first."

_**Or anyone who's had to spend a prolonged period of time with him.**_

_So you're back, are you?_

_**Well, you seem to have resolved the situation successfully.**_

"Be tha best thin' fer me," Merle continued, before becoming more serious. "Anyway, don't think I've forgot abou' this fuckin' miracle cure. I wanna hear abou' it _now_, woman."

_**Whoops. Spoke too soon again. I'm off...**_

"Ahh… yes, about that. Now, _promise_ you won't get upset, but… I'm afraid I made it up."

"_Tha fuck?!" _Merle growled, clearly furious.

"Yes, and I'm _truly_ sorry if I got your hopes up," Kate spoke rapidly, eager to placate him. "You see, I thought you might be bitten and just not telling me. In that case, the easiest thing to do seemed to be to take away any reason you had to lie."

"Dammit, woman! Wha' tha fuck would ya ha' done if I said I wanted tha cure?"

"Umm, I'm afraid I would have felt sort of compelled to kill you," she continued apologetically.

Merle gave a short dismissive laugh. "Ya mean ya wouldda fuckin' tried!"

"Obviously I wouldn't have just _launched_ myself at you!" Kate snapped, slightly indignant that he would think she was that stupid. "Firstly, I'm not that eager to go berserk and kill everyone I encounter, and secondly I'm fully conscious of the fact that I couldn't take you in a fight, even with your injury!"

"Huh! I've seen ya fight an' ya damn right! I could be missin' both hands an' ya couldn't take me!"

"Unnecessarily hurtful, but probably true," Kate acknowledge fairly. "So, I would have given you some harmless medication, made you comfortable and waited until you were asleep. Then..." she tailed off.

_Hmm… it did sound bad when you tried to say it out loud._

"Then ya woulda stabbed me?" he grumbled. "Fuckin' hell, woman. An' ya was givin' me shit abou' not helpin' ya out more!"

"I know, but listen Merle," she reached up, put her hands on his shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. "I want you know that I would have been _extremely_ upset to do it, _especially_ since it's you."

Merle snorted. "Yeah, I would a' been pretty fuckin' upset myself, _especially_ since i's me."

Kate carefully put on her most winsome face, the one with the big eyes. "Does that mean you can't _ever_ forgive me?"

He shot her an angry look. "Not fuckin' likely…"

She removed her hands from his shoulders while trying to make her face even sadder; lowering her eyes to the floor and heaving a quite unmistakably exaggerated sigh of disappointment. "Yet we both seem such _reasonable_ people. After all, we both gave each other a chance to show we weren't infected rather than immediately stabbing or hacking each other. I put down my sword, you put down your axe and we tried not to kill each other like civilised people. Given the circumstances, it's just _such_ a shame we can't get along…"

She dared to peek back up at him through her 'sad face' lashes.

His face was still slightly angry, but it had a trace of something else in it that she couldn't identify. "Don't try and pull tha' big-eyed bullshit wit' me, woman. Ya ain't leadin' me aroun' by tha prick, don' matter how good yer tits are, ya understan' me?"

Kate just managed to keep a straight face, and wondered if Merle brought everything back to sex. Though she supposed from him, something like that was sort of a back handed compliment.

_**Coming from him it's a one handed compliment.**_

_Shereen, that is in appalling taste. I'm ashamed of you. _

_**Whatever…and you do know he can't remember your name, don't you?**_

_I admit, I did suspect as much. _

_**Then I will also point out that there's no point you deluding yourself that you're terribly, awfully shocked and offended by his interest, even if he is extremely crude about it. Since you're his last resort, we both know you'd be more upset if he showed you no interest at all.**_

_True. Although I don't like being called a last resort, thank you very much. Ahh, she sighed, vanity, thy name is woman._

_**More like 'Vanity thy name is Kate…'**_

_Oh, bog off._

She looked Merle full in the face, barely able to contain her smile as she scented victory. "Fair enough. If I promise _faithfully_ not to try and lead you around by your genitals, will you forgive me for plotting to kill you, albeit _entirely _unwillingly?"

His lips twitched slightly but Merle simply nodded firmly, hoisted the axe over his shoulder and said in an uncompromising voice, "Alright, I s'pose ya forgiven." Suddenly that odd grin was there, and Kate saw he was watching her keenly. "But, if I get bit, jus' know I'm gonna expec' ta see them there titties 'fore y'all kill me."

"Oh, _of course_, absolutely," responded Kate cordially, not even giving him the satisfaction of blinking an eye. "After all, a man has _got_ to go happy…"

...

Gah, I didn't have any of you fooled for a minute, did I? You knew Kate wasn't going to be dead seven chapters in. And Merle, eh? What can you do with him?

Just as an aside, I'm afraid I never intend to do such things as give Kate the last sample of the cure, or be the one person who by sheer chance has immunity. Other people can do it and do it well, but I'm afraid when I try it always puts me in mind of the Mary Sue.

I forgot to mention it last chapter, but for those who are interested the final chapter of my other Walking Dead story, Shame, has now been posted.

Anyway, thank you for all the lovely feedback, especially to my lovely guest reviewers who I haven't had a chance to thank directly. Do please continue to review, review, review! I love it when you follow or favourite me, but feedback is particularly awesome and appreciated as it lets me know what you like.

Fact check

Because as GI Joe says, Knowing is half the battle…

Although samurai did wear silk as part of their armour, it wasn't originally to stop bullets but to provide a layer between armour and the body and to link other pieces together. However, when they came into contact with Westerners and their relatively early firearms, they did find that it could often stop their bullets due to their low velocity, particularly if they'd been slowed down further by the outer armour. Even if they did get through the silk, the nature of silk meant that it would be knocked through into the wound in one clean piece, rather than fragmenting like other fabrics such as cotton or wool and increasing the chance of infection. Recently it's been found that 16 layers of Thai silk will stop .9mm bullets fired from a modern gun.

The human bite averages around 120 psi of bite pressure, compared to over 300 psi for a dog. According to my internet research, which as we know is the most reliable kind of research there is, a decent sized rifle bullet travelling at 2000 feet per second will hit you will a force of around 3000 psi. So, Kate's outfit is definitely not bullet proof, but it should stop most bites.

In theory…

The quote from Hamlet is actually "Frailty, thy name is woman." But loads of people misquote it as 'vanity', and Kate's not perfect.

There's also a Princess Bride reference in there if you squint.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

Merle's head was clearer with some food in his system, but he was still tamping down a constant feeling of nausea as they checked the remaining rooms on the first floor, making him increasingly irritable as he mulled over the situation.

_Tha' goddamn smart-ass, cocky, spunky lil' bitch…_

He knew there had been a moment, beyond that unusual flash of guilt, when he'd watched her desperately try to argue her way out of an axe to the head with a slight stirring of pity.

…_fuckin' pity! She shouldn't even a' had tha fuckin' time ta argue. He shoulda brained her ass right' when he knew she were bit! _

_Huh, he woulda been wrong though…_

When he'd realised she was uninfected, through what appeared to be some pretty smart fuckin' thinking on her part, he'd been too distracted feeling up her ass to get pissed about his disturbing sense of relief. Until now…

…_motherfucker! She wasn't anythin' ta him but some high class goddamn cooze who still owed him pussy_…

Then the whole damn thing had turned on its fuckin' head when he found out she'd lied to him about a cure, trying to work out if she would have to kill him. Or at least try to, ballsy little cunt that she was. What was worse was that he couldn't even blame her for playing safe.

… _which was fuckin' stupid of him. Fuck! Wha' if he'd really let his fuckin' guard down? Wha' if he'd been dipshit enough ta believe her bull through ta tha end? If she'd a killed him, who'd find Daryl an' make sure he wasn't fuckin' things up fer hisself like usual? He mus' be fuckin' sicker than he thought ta ha' fallen fer it… _

Merle hadn't liked the sneaking sense of admiration he'd felt at her determination to survive, nor had he felt comfortable at her obvious attempt to sweet talk him into forgiveness. That was what had fuckin' thrown him; _she_ knew it was obvious, and she knew _he_ knew it was obvious. If she'd treated him like he was some dumb redneck fuck chasing tail, and tried to pull that same shit with some goddamn subtlety, he would have shot her down in fuckin' flames an' liked it. Instead, she'd not only gone the other way and made a big joke of it, _but_ had the goddamn brass _balls _to include him!

…_bitch pro'bly knew it was fuckin' hard ta say no ta somethin' when ya was both in on tha goddamn joke…._

So, of course, Merle dealt with it as he always did, by working himself up to be even more pissed at her. Immediately he'd tried to strike some sparks off her; push her away, piss her off, make her react. But she wouldn't even give him that! She still kept on with that fuckin' good humoured way she had…Jesus, it wasn't right! It wasn't fuckin' natural being around a woman this long without 'em getting pissed!

…_lil' woman pro'bly thought a sweet ass an' a pair a' tits were all it took ta lead him around by tha nutsack. Fuck tha' shit! He weren't no damn boy chasing his first snatch, and the bitch was gonna getta rude fuckin' awakenin' if she thought he was gonna be doin' her any fuckin' favours jus' ta get laid… _

…_dammit, wha' in tha fuck was her name, anyway? _

_Not tha' it mattered ta him, but she'd pro'bly be pissed if he didn't use it soon. Women were like tha'. Expected ya ta buy 'em flowers an' shit, or remember their names when ya was only gonna fuck 'em tha once. An' wha' was tha point? Man's only got room in his damn head fer so much. _

_Now, _**_he_**_ wasn't fuckin' unreasonable like tha'. He didn't care if they remembered his name, so long as when they was fuckin' they didn't scream someone else's. _

_Tha' shit was jus' disrespectful. _

…

The first room they explored was the small stockroom that the little geek had come flying out off, which only contained filing cabinets and a cash box. He told the woman to open it with the crowbar, and when she'd looked at him puzzled he deliberately didn't explain. If she wanted to know, she'd have to damn well ask. Instead she'd shrugged, fetched the crowbar from the bags and prised it open; they found about a thousand dollars in cash. He must have looked disappointed, as she finally cracked.

"I didn't think you'd be after money, so what were you hoping for?"

"Revolver mebbe," he said shortly.

"Oh, are you still… I mean, are you good with a gun?" she said, her eyes firmly on his face, and he knew she was deliberately avoiding looking at his injured arm.

"Course I can still fuckin' use a gun," he sneered with annoyance.

_He better fuckin' be able ta… _

However, something in her face aroused his suspicion, and from between gritted teeth he ground out a tight but level "_Why_…?"

"Well, if you like, I could give you _a_ gun," she stated thoughtfully, "I took it off the policeman with the Kevlar vest… but it's broken. Perhaps when we've checked out this place you could have a look, maybe see if it's fixable?"

"Tha _fuck_?! Why didn't ya tell me ya had a goddamn gun? Lemme see it," Merle said with dangerous patience, desperately clinging to the last threads of his temper.

_Fuckin' women! Somethin' fuckin' important like this an' they jus' drop it inta tha conversation like it ain't shit! Expectin' me ta stan' aroun' wit' nuthin' but a fuckin' fire axe ta my name, an' her jus' wit' some assorted fuckin' cutlery. Jesus fuckin' Christ!_

"Right, I should just…"

"Dammit woman, jus' gimme tha gun!" he snapped at her. He watched with that small sense of perverse pleasure as her face became a little stony and one eyebrow rose.

_Huh, now he'd pissed her off._

"Fine," she said in a clipped tone.

_Holy shit, 'Fine'? Man, she _**_was_**_ pissed! An' about time._

She all but stalked over to the bags, crouching down in front of hers and searching in the side pocket. Eventually rising, she smoothed back down her baggy jacket and walked back over, a gun in her hand.

He all but snatched it from her and ran his expert eye over it; he couldn't see any external damage. It was pretty standard stuff, but decent. Colt 1911, possibly a series 80, popular with military and law enforcement, seven round magazine as standard, grip and thumb safety…

_Thumb safety…fer fucks sake…_

"Ya say it don't work… did ya take tha thumb safety off?"

"I'm afraid I didn't realise my thumb was in any more danger than the rest of me," she responded coolly, "so I suspect not."

_Huh. Not so smart now, are we? Damn, it felt strange havin' tha pistol in his left hand. Whole thing felt off._

_Plus she was actin' colder than a witch's tit wit' him, an' he was surprised ta find he didn't quite like it. Now she was actually respondin' like other women he'd known, he kinda remembered how much he hadn't fuckin' liked any of 'em. Not tha' he liked her… bitches were there fer one thin', an once ya got tha' ya got out. _

_Still, he s'posed he should show her wha' he meant, save her dumb ass from gettin' ki… gettin' him killed._

Like most pistols it was designed for a right handed person, so he flipped it around so she could see and used his finger to adjust it back and forth as he spoke. 'Look here, ya dumbass. This means tha pistol can fire. This means it don't do shit."

Merle could see she was interested, but her voice was still chilly when she said, "Thank you for the courteous demonstration, I shall be sure to remember," and reached for the gun. He quickly pulled it back and tucked it into the back of his pants, grinning at her outraged look. "Ah-ah, bright eyes! If ya don't know how ta use it, imma thinkin' it should stay in tha hands a'someone more responsible."

"But it's _my_ gun!" she snapped indignantly.

"Possession is nine tenths a tha law."

_Yep, he had considerable experience wit' tha law on possession... an' a range of other associated charges._

"My God, you really are incredible…"

"Hell darlin', _I_ _know_," he interrupted, "but I normally don't hear tha' shit 'til after we fuck." Now she was really glaring at him, and unusually he doubted himself for the briefest of seconds.

_Dammit brother, can't ya just ease up? Ya jus' 'throwin' away some damn fine pussy; ain't no way she gonna fuck yer ugly ass if ya keep givin' her shit… _

However, her next words pushed Merle too far.

"And _how_ do I even know you can use it with your _left _hand?" she asked bluntly.

Already feeling sick and pissed off, the reminder of his injury finally caused Merle to lose his temper. He knew it was fuckin' stupid, but he grabbed the gun and barely aimed as he fired off a shot at an ornate chandelier, innocently hanging a good thirty feet away in the lighting department. The report reverberated around the enclosed space, so they saw rather than heard one of its bulbs shatter in a tinkling of glass.

_Shit! Won't do tha' again in a hurry,_ he thought, his ears ringing painfully, though thank fuck he managed not ta flinch like a bitch.

The woman meanwhile had clapped her hands over her ears in pain. "_Jesus!_ Alright, fine, keep it you fucking dick! God, you've bloody deafened me, you wanker!"

Merle didn't understand all the words exactly, but he got the gist and laughed a little carelessly; that demonstration of his skill had worked out better than he'd hoped.

_After all, it was a tough shot, an' there was no need fer her ta know tha' it weren't tha bulb he was aimin' fer..._

However, he was distracted when the woman suddenly gasped and rushed over to the front door. Plastering herself against the wall on one side, she edged her head out for a quick but cautious look before bringing the protective guard down quietly and locking it. "Impressive though your display was, it does seem to have attracted some unwanted attention," she said frostily. "I think we're committed to this building now, whatever might be waiting for us upstairs."

Her statement was confirmed by a few thuds on the window, though it was barely audible with the thick metal guard...

...and, of course, the residual ringing in his ears.

"Don't matter now, woman," said Merle smugly, waggling the gun at her, "bring it on! Ol' Merle can take out anythin' wit' this."

"Yes, I'm looking forward to watching you bludgeon them to death," said the woman dryly, "since that was its last bullet."

…

_Nononofuckno…!_

He checked the magazine as best he could. She was right; empty. That was why the gun had felt strange; he'd put it down to holding in his off hand, but it was the weight that was wrong!

_Goddamn. Goddamn motherfucker! Fuck! FUCK! Fuckin' typical! Jus' when he thought things was goin' right, life took a big ol' shit on Merle Dixon._

Merle slammed it down on the sideboard next to her before venting his wrath. He swore as he kicked apart a chair, grunted as he tipped over a decent sized dresser one handed, and then proceeded to stamp a small and inoffensive coffee table to death before he stopped, panting slightly but feeling marginally calmer. When he looked up, she was leaning quite relaxed against a sideboard, a bemused expression on her face.

"Feeling better, precious?" she asked calmly, "Tantrum over?"

Merle snarled at her.

"I'll take that as a no." She was staring hard at him. "Not having a gun has _genuinely_ upset you, hasn't it?"

Merle couldn't believe she sounded surprised. "Picked tha' up did ya, sweetness? Hell, yer mus' be one a them detectives." He thought for a moment. "An' I ain't upset!"

_Bitches got upset. Dixon's got pissed._

"You know, they're really not that useful round here… in the city I mean. It just attracts more of them."

_Huh, where ha' he heard tha' before…_

"Rather have one an' not need it, than need it an' not have one."

"Ah-ha," she sounded impressed, "Kafka?"

He couldn't help it. "Nah… Trojan."

She looked confused at his grin before realisation dawned and she simultaneously blushed and tried not to smile. Merle knew being sick was affecting his thinking because even when he was pissed at her he thought she looked kinda cute. However, she started frowning again, sending him another considering look. Merle wondered what she was going to come out with now.

"Have you always been around guns?"

He studied her hard; Merle got the feeling she was leading somewhere, and on instinct decided to answer honestly. "Since I were a kid, an' I've always been a fuckin' good shot. Learned how ta hunt, then had a tour in tha Marines."

_Admittedly, a lot a tha' was in tha stockade, but hell, it still counted. _

"Hmm, then I suppose you do get into the habit of having them about." He thought she looked a little impressed at his being in the Marines, but her voice gave nothing away. "Alright. Then may I also ask if you are going to explode in a violent fit of temper every time something doesn't go your way?"

Merle shrugged.

"Pro'bly."

She laughed. "Well, at least you're honest," she said, chuckling a little. "I think… I think I'm going to," she said, half talking to herself, "and if I'm wrong… well, I suppose in this world it's better to be shot than to be eaten."

Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out another gun.

"Fuckin' hell, Mary Poppins, what tha' fuck else ya got in them pockets?" he gasped, half amused.

"I would have told you about this _and_ the other gun having one bullet _if _you hadn't interrupted me so rudely, so, you know… maybe think about that before you do it again. You really did piss me off, and believe it or not that doesn't happen often."

_I'd believe it. An' if it's any consolation, woman, I had ta fuckin' work fer it._

She held the gun out to him, demonstrating to Merle her level of awareness on firearm safety by holding it by the handle and pointing the barrel directly at him. He tensed automatically, but as she continued blithely he realised with some relief that her finger was nowhere near the trigger.

Still, he wasn't _entirely_ happy about it.

"Here, I was going to keep this one for me, but I'm useless, so call it a thank you present for not braining me. Now, I know it works and it does have quite a few bullets, but please don't fire it indoors unless you really feel you must. I always wanted to fake being deaf when I'm old just to piss people off, and it won't be so much fun if I'm not faking."

Merle was naturally suspicious. "Ya giving me tha' gun?" he queried.

"Yes."

"Ta keep?" He couldn't get his head around it.

"For your very own," she smiled, before adding with mock seriousness, "But your father and I expect you to be responsible. No fooling around trying to impress the other kids; it's all fun until someone loses an eye…"

Merle cut her off with a snort of laughter, but he was still intrigued. "Why ya doing this? Ya don't even know me."

She sighed, and apparently tiring of holding the gun out to him, placed it on the sideboard next to her, and began to count off on her fingers. "Okay. One; I have no knowledge or experience of guns, as I rather embarrassingly demonstrated earlier. Frankly I'm not very comfortable around them, and realistically I'm more likely to shoot myself or you accidentally than a zombie deliberately. Two; you are trained and can shoot extremely well, as you've shown. Given we're in the same building, and it's in both our interests to use it successfully on any zombies we haven't chased out of hiding yet, it's more logical for you to have the gun. Though for the sake of my hearing, I'd rather it was a last resort."

The woman paused now, staring at the floor intensely as though choosing her words with care.

"Three… you know, I can't argue with you… you're absolutely right; I don't really know you. It's a gamble, and maybe a stupid one. I suppose you could easily be planning to kill me with that gun, though I note you didn't shoot me with the first one I gave you, nor have you made any attempt to accept this one, despite my best efforts to give it to you. However, let's say you are planning to kill me and… oh, I don't know, rob me of supplies. Well, that would suck, obviously, but it's a quick death and with the way the world is today, that's probably something to be grateful for."

_Huh, stealin' her supplies mebbe tha least a her worries when it came ta some she might encounter, but he didn't wanna interrupt her lil' lecture. Part a him could see her argument, but there was a lifetime's distrust tha' meant he couldn't understand why a woman like her would give her best chance of survival ta a man like him. An' fer some reason he wanted ta understand… _

She sighed, and rubbed her eyes as though tired. "If I've read you right, and beneath that rather dickish exterior you're basically a fairly decent man at heart, I've gained an ally, and one who can use that gun to defend us more effectively than I could. If not, then what the _fuck_ is the point in going on?" Her voice cracked slightly as she continued. "Seriously, if the first and only living person I meet in nearly a month is just some psycho killer, just… just what is the fucking point?" She sighed again, grimacing slightly. "Sorry, I'm tired and my thinking is fuzzy. Do you want this gun or not?"

Merle held out his hand. "Hell, I'll take it, if only ta prevent ya from shootin' one of us by accident." He watched the woman begin to smile, and added, "Or, which I suspect is more goddamn likely wit' ya, handin' it over ta some nutjob on fuckin' trust an' getting' both our asses killed." Still smiling, she picked it up off the side and gave it to him, then closed her eyes and took a deep breath, as though meditating. Merle watched her for a moment, taking the chance to admire the smooth planes of her face unobserved, and wondered if this would be a good time to try and snatch a kiss.

_Hmm, could do, but who knew wha' else was in them there pockets…_

After a few moments she spoke. "I don't wish to seem overly optimistic, but I don't appear to be dead." She cracked one eye open while keeping the other tightly closed. "Hmmm…no bullet hole, no apparent urges to bite you…nope, not even to nibble…"

_Shame…_

"…guess that means you're a decent man, Merle."

"Guess tha' means ya got low standards." She simply grinned and shook her head.

_Still, guess my competition's thinned out a lil' lately…_

…

Merle checked the gun thoroughly this time, and found himself with an old friend from his days as a Marine. Beretta M9, standard Army issue, 15 round capacity and roughly a 50m range. Damn nice, and what was even better was that the magazine release was adjustable for left handed users._ Very handy_, he punned to himself with a twist of his lips, before ruthlessly dismissing any sense of self-pity. This time he made sure to check the clip and it seemed fairly full, though it would be difficult to remove the cartridges and check properly without practice. "Ya know how many rounds i's got?"

"I counted twelve bullets in there. I used two when I first got it, of which only one hit the target while attracting a dangerous amount of attention. That's why I haven't used it since. Plus it's got a pretty powerful recoil."

Merle raised his eyebrows at her belief that the M9 had an unusually strong recoil, but maybe if you weren't used to guns maybe it would seem powerful. "Where'd ya get it?"

"I took it out of a dead soldier's mouth." At his sharp look, she shrugged ruefully. "You asked."

_Made sense; assumin' it had a full clip ta start, tha' was one round in tha soldier, two shots she fired herself, leavin' twelve rounds as she said. He'd check it properly later, but if tha' was right he'd still have ta make 'em count. _

"You thought about it?" he asked on a whim.

She didn't pretend to misunderstand him. "Suicide?" she frowned. "Yes, on occasion, I won't lie. But not anymore." _Not anymore?_ He filed that away for later exploration, and tucked the pistol into the front of his pants.

"God, are you sure you want to carry the gun there?" she asked, shocked. "Isn't that a little dangerous? It goes off quite easily."

"Nah, 'cause _I _know how ta put tha safety on," he smirked, before hooking is thumb into his belt and patting his zipper. "Plus, I got me a bigger gun in these pants than tha' there lil' peashooter…"

"Oh, Jesus wept…" she said as she rolled her eyes, though he spotted the tell-tale twitch at the corner of her mouth.

"Jus' takes a light touch…" Merle said as he moved in closer, but he was surprised when she leaned forward herself, put her hand on his arm and shot him a look of mock sympathy.

"Oh dear, does it 'go off' easily as well?"

"Fuck no!" he responded, recoiling slightly at the implication. "Ol' Merle don't come wit' no hair trigger, woman!"

"You'd best be sure that little gun doesn't have a hair trigger," she grinned, patting his arm and winking before going to grab her gear, "or 'big gun' won't be coming at all."

_Fuck me,_ thought Merle, as despite her ugly clothes she somehow sashayed away with a saucy fuckin' air of impudence, _if I ain't careful I'm gonna start ta like tha' lil' bitch._

The thought didn't make him entirely happy.

…

The rest of the rooms on the first floor proved equally unexciting, at least as far as geeks went. There was an employee locker room, which they decided to come back to since everything was locked and too small to contain even the most emaciated geek. Of more interest was the employee break room, which had various foods in the cupboards, though again they agreed to explore it in more detail once they'd cleared the building. However, there was considerable excitement over the old cooker provided for staff, which was attached to a dusty looking tank of propane.

"Do you think it will work?" she asked him, eyes wide and eager at the prospect of hot food.

"I'll fuckin' _make _it work!" said Merle uncompromisingly.

They returned to the stairs and began to walk up slowly together, both instinctively taking responsibility for a side of the floor. Merle wasn't quite sure how he felt about trusting his back to someone who wasn't Daryl. He wasn't worried she'd harm him deliberately, not now, but if she fucked up he could end still up screwed. Well, if shit went sideways, he supposed he could handle it. After all, he had a fuckin' gun now, after a week of relying on just the axe. Things were finally turning around.

They made it to the top of the stairs and saw the floor was dedicated to bedroom furniture and bathrooms, made up into mock room-displays, with a decent sized corner dedicated to towels and cushions and fluffy shit Merle had little time for. The woman's side was mock bedrooms and studies, while Merle's side had mock bathrooms and a door marked 'Roof Access,' which was chained up. No problem; Merle wasn't in any hurry to be back on a roof anytime soon. There was another door on his side that he suspected led to another staff area, or possibly more storage.

"Shall we explore your side first?" she asked in a whisper.

_See, this was exactly tha kinda shit he knew would happen; now she'd be dependin' on him fer every little thin'._

"What', ya want Ol' Merle ta hold ya hand, darlin'? You take yer side, an' I'll take mine."

"But if we split up…"

"…We'll get done twice as fast."

Her lips compressed a little, but she merely shrugged again and went to check on her side. Since there appeared to be no rooms off the main floor on that side, it seemed she would mainly be checking wardrobes and under beds, anywhere a geek could lurk. He turned back to his own side and felt slightly dizzy for a moment.

_Shit, he was feelin' sick. _

His stump was starting to really itch; he wondered if eating had finally given his body enough energy to complain about the abuse he'd put it through. Still, if he could just make it through this floor, he could rest without the woman knowing how shitty he felt. His mind kept wandering, and like a pussy he was having trouble focussing on the task in hand. Even as he prowled the floor towards the storeroom door, he thought about what she had said about them having a friendship.

_Friendship... huh, she was fair an' far off if she thought tha' was wha' he wanted from her, or anyone fer tha' fuckin' matter. Fer an instant, he was six years old again, whining ta his Ma tha' he didn't have any friends 'cause tha other kids didn't wan' ta play wit' a Dixon, while she chain smoked quietly in tha dim, broken down kitchen. He hadn't heard his Pa come in behind him, an' was only made aware of his presence when he went flyin' headfirst into one of tha kitchen cupboards; he heard a crack as tha door broke wit' tha impact. Head throbbin', blood flowin' down in ta his eyes, he remembered his father clutchin' tha front o' his shirt an' lifting him painfully up ta his face. Little did he know then, but over thirty years later he'd see almost exactly tha same face in tha mirror each day._

_Pa's eyes were bloodshot around the cold crystal blue, an' he stank of beer an' cigarettes an' wha' Merle would know not ten years later was whore. _

"_Ya wan' friends do ya, boy? What ya gonna do, ya pussy, ha' sleepovers an' talk abou' boys, mebbe braid each otha's hair?" He dropped Merle to tha floor. Merle hadn't cried. Dixon boys didn't cry; not if they knew wha' was good fer 'em. "Ya a Dixon. Ya don't need no friends boy, ya don't want 'em. They're a fuckin' lia.. liabul…_

_His mother had been drinking too, an' had made tha mistake of giggling quietly at his father's drunken forgetfulness. His father barely spared her a glance as he backhanded her in tha mouth, his attention still focussed on tha small boy sprawled on tha floor. "I'm sayin' they're a fuckin burden! Ya got ya kin, boy. Tha's all tha' matters." Apparently considerin' his parental duties discharged, he'd stomped up ta bed ta sleep off tha bender he'd been on._

_Merle remembered watching tha cigarette's orange glow as it rolled on tha dirty floor in front of him, before his Ma had silently picked it up an' placed it back between her bleedin' lips. _

_They never fixed tha fuckin' cupboard..._

_Shit! His Pa may ha' been a fuckin' asshole, an' a useless asshole at tha', but he was right; kin was all tha' mattered. _

He reached the door and opened it, axe at the ready. Silence… no movement. Relieved, Merle moved into the room.

_Fuckin' woman, thinkin' she's somethin' special! Hell, he hadn't cared 'bout anyone 'cept Daryl… I mean, yeah, there was…no, no, best not ta remember, brother. Tha' shit was long done wit', even before tha' world went ta hell …_

The wind was knocked out of him as he was tackled from the side and sent crashing to the floor.

…

Merle kept hold of the axe tightly, which was the only thing that saved him. The walker was a huge man, black and bald and well over three hundred pounds, and he appeared to be dressed in what might be a janitor's uniform. His weight was almost entirely on Merle's torso and lower body, making it impossible for him to move and challenging to even breathe. He had the axe up across his face, the walker biting down on the middle of the handle while its hands grasped either end. The sharp angles of his newly acquired gun dug painfully and mockingly into his groin.

_Fuckfuckfuck…_

Merle desperately tried to get his spinning head to come up with a solution. He was in some pretty serious shit; the walker only had to move its hands slightly to scratch him and then he'd be fucked. For a moment he envied the woman her gloves and those stupid fuckin' pyjamas…

_The woman…_

"Woman," he yelled as best he could, "git yer ass over here!"

"Where are you?" she yelled after a pause.

"Where ya think? Come git fuckin' Oprah offa me."

He turned his attention back to the walker, muttering, "Git off me, ya goddamn nigger!" As if in response it dripped foul black saliva onto his chest. "Aww Jesus," Merle murmured, feeling disgusted. Suddenly there was the sound of running feet and a gasp from behind his head. Then one of those wicked blades flashed into his vision and plunged into the ear of the walker, spilling more geek juice onto him. It stilled and the full weight of it collapsed on him.

Both he and the woman struggled to shift the body but eventually they managed to roll it sideways. She knelt beside him while he remained prone on the floor, trying to ignore the rising waves of nausea that had been made worse by the pressure on his stomach and lack of air.

"I don't think that's Oprah. Looks more like Uncle Phil," she joked weakly, obviously still a little shaken. He let her talk.

_Jus' need a moment... catch my breath. Not a pussy, not a pussy…_

"Fresh Prince?" she queried at his lack of response. "No? Different generation maybe. Well… umm, I hate to sound like a broken record, but are you bitten?"

"Nah…fine," he managed to get out, pleased his voice sounded steadier than hers.

She nodded, apparently prepared to accept his responses at face value now, before standing and offering him a hand up. He had enough pride to ignore it, but only made it to his knees before he realised standing was a mistake and threw up.

She shot backwards, but was unable to avoid catching most of it on her boots. Over the sound of his retching and the pounding in his ears, he heard her voice torn between annoyance and amusement.

"Oh Merle, really! Those were brand new boots…"

…

Apologies, these chapters get longer and longer. The Franz Kafka quote is actually 'Better to have, and not need, than to need, and not have.'

The prize of smug satisfaction goes to those who spot the Governor reference and The Sixth Day quote. Also a little bit of reverse Merle/T-Dog fight from Season 1. And we get a Fresh Prince of Bel Air shout out because it starred Will Smith, who was in I am Legend, which is sort of like a zombie film.

Almost. A bit.

I'm going to try very hard to get another update in before Christmas, but the meantime do please take a moment to leave a review; they are loved and appreciated, like my wonderful reviewers themselves!


	10. Chapter 10

_Note: Firstly, I just want to apologise for the delay in getting this chapter out. I was cruelly struck down with flu before Christmas, and I couldn't face the computer either to read or write, hence my getting behind with some of your stories as well as my own. However, hopefully the delay hasn't dulled your appetite for this chapter, which I admit I did make quite fluffy since it was coming up to Christmas when I was doing to bulk of the writing. _

**Chapter Ten**

Kate watched from a slightly safer distance as Merle puked up his guts, feeling a little helpless. She had never considered herself a natural when it came to nursing.

_Poor sod. He must feel bad to have thrown up in front of me._

**_Indeed, but if it's any consolation, he'll probably take it out on you by being a total arsehole._**

_Well, at least his bark is worse than his bite._

**_You'd best be right. I still can't believe you gave him our gun._**

_Oh, it's _**_our_**_ gun now, is it? Because I seem to remember, when _**_I_**_ picked it up, that someone said not to weigh ourselves down with stuff we couldn't use._

**_And I was right, you can't use it. _**

_Then there's no point me holding onto it, is there? _said Kate smugly.

**_But he's violent... _**Shereen whined.

_You weren't paying attention._

**_To what?_**

_Merle. _

**_I assure you, when he started shooting things and trashing the furniture, he had my undivided attention._**

_You see, Watson, but you do not observe. He was angry, and at me. But he directed all his violence elsewhere._

**_Pfft! That's not much to go on..._**

_But I believe it is. He's particularly bad tempered at the moment with that injury making him ill; I bet he's not used to being sick or weak. Then I add to it and piss him off. I mean, I fully admit he doesn't always react in the most balanced way..._

**_...oh, you noticed that, did you? _**Shereen noted dryly.

_...but the worst I can say of him is that he snapped at me and smashed some furniture. _Kate had to laugh a little_. That poor coffee table! I could hardly keep a straight face. I knew it was doomed when he saw it had a pink fringe. I've never seen anyone with such a blind hatred for chintzy home furnishings. _

**_Clearly an IKEA man._**

Kate allowed herself an enjoyable moment of imagining Merle's outraged and no doubt violent reaction to the incomprehensible instructions of self-assembly furniture, before shutting the thought down before she went off in hysterics.

_I suppose if he has the energy to be that angry when he's sick, he'll be fine. Which is good, frankly; I don't want to be on my own again._

**_Thanks… _**

_Not what I meant…_

**_Please, speak your mind, won't you?_**

_You _**_are_**_ my mind! In fact, why am I even arguing about you with this?_

**_Oh, that's nice, that is! _**

_Fine, I'm sorry…_

**_No, it's out there now. We just have to live with it..._**

…

When it seemed Merle had finished vomiting, she knelt next to him as he caught his breath, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder.

"Fuckin' thin'," he gasped. Kate assumed he was referring to his wound.

"I'm sorry, it must be very annoying."

"Fuck woman, ya think?!"

Kate tried to think of something comforting or useful she could say, but she suspected Merle would not take kindly to sympathy, so she tried brusqueness instead. "Okay…come on, Merle, up you get," she said, trying to get round to lift him.

Merle tried to knock her hands away, "I don't need ya fuckin' help, woman."

**_Macho, macho man,_** Shereen sang in her head, **_I want to be a macho man…_**

_Oh bloody hell. How could she help Merle and leave the man some pride?_

"I'm not helping. I'm… err…" she stumbled as Merle looked up and fixed shrewd eyes on her face.

_Oh, just go all out, he knows what you're doing. Either he'll let you help or he won't._

"Okay, I didn't want to say this but… I was actually trying to cop a feel," she grinned and held her hands up, as though caught in the act. "So, come on, help me out? It's been ages since I had my arms around a big, strong man."

Merle shot her a look of amused contempt, but to her surprise he raised his arm. "Fine," he grunted, allowing her to wedge herself under it and put her own around his back, looping her fingers through his belt, before adding, "but ya missin' all tha good spots."

"Sorry, I'm a little out of practice." He wrapped his good arm around her waist, and it didn't escape her notice that he slipped his hand under the leather jacket to the silk beneath and pulled her tight against him.

_Hey! At least _**_I _**_was joking about copping a feel._

Although it did take a little effort to get him up, once he was standing he put very little weight on her at all, merely using her to stabilise himself. As they began to move out of the room and back into the main floor, he sniffed suddenly. "Yer fuckin' stink, woman."

**_Charming! How has he stayed single this long? _**

_You don't know he is single!_

**_Please. With game like that, he's single..._**

"Thank you, Merle. Though can I point out that I _have_ just spent three weeks running around Georgia in multiple layers of silk and leather without a proper shower. I was also _considerably_ more fragrant before a certain _someone_, who shall remain nameless, went and puked on my boots…"

He shot her one of his shit-eating grins.

"…plus being wedged into your armpit isn't exactly filling my head with thoughts of Febreze… except maybe as a cry for help."

Merle laughed at that. "Man ain't meant ta smell like a field a fuckin' flowers, woman. Man's meant ta smell like a fuckin' man."

Kate wrinkled her nose, "Yes, but _you_ smell like a man that's been dead for some time."

He gave her a squeeze, pushing her head further into his side. "Tha's man-stink, woman, bitches can't resist it."

**_Oh Kate, I think this one's a keeper!_**

Outwardly, she merely sighed. "Come on, tough guy, let's get you to bed."

Merle smirked. "Tol' ya, ain't no fightin' it..."

…

There were three display beds made up, two doubles and a single that was nearest. Kate angled him over to it and slid from beneath him as he sat down heavily. Merle looked around before testing the springiness of the mattress. "Well, if this is wha' ya prefer, darlin', then alright, but a single bed ain't gonna see me do my best work." Kate shook her head and smiled.

"You can sleep in one of the double beds when you're clean; right now I want to get that zombie blood off you. Do you want me to have a look at your wound too? I'm no Dr Quinn, but from the way it smells it might be worth putting some fresh bandages on it."

"Fine, fine…"

_No argument at all? He was definitely sick._

Kate went to pull off his waistcoat, and he pulled away. "Wha' tha fuck ya think ya doin'?"

"I was _trying_ to help you get your clothes off…"

"Shit, why didn't ya say so...?" he began, yanking off the waistcoat.

"…_so_ you could have a _wash_, Merle!"

"Seems like a waste a naked fuckin' man ta me."

**_I'm inclined to agree…_**

_You stay out of this!_

"What you chose to do with naked men is entirely your own business." Ignoring his derisive snort, Kate continued, "Now, I think the leather is okay," she said, holding up his waistcoat, "but that hideous t-shirt is probably ruined. Good God, is that _tie-dye_? Never would have put you down as a dippy-hippy."

"Ya wan' me ta lose it darlin', jus' ask."

"I don't want you to lose it, I want you to _burn_ it. Losing it means we risk you finding and wearing it again."

He huffed a laugh. "Ahh, now tha' jus' hurts my feelin's, darlin'."

"Sorry, I…" she helped him yank the blood soaked t-shirt off, and paused.

**_Mmm, he is built solid, isn't he?_**

'…'

**_Kate?_**

'…'

**_Err…Kate?!_**

'…'

**_KATE! _**Shereen snapped imaginary fingers.**_ Back in the room, girl!_**

_What? Oh sorry._

Merle was grinning at her. "I seem ta recall tellin' ya before, darlin'; ya see anythin' ya like, ya'll just lemme know."

_Shite. _

_Not that she would tell him, but there was quite a lot Kate liked under the coating of zombie blood. She'd already noted his strong arms, but seeing those broad shoulders and deep, powerful chest with its light dusting of hair was quite distracting. It wasn't a young man's chest but it looked firm and slightly tanned, the kind of chest that some women, not Kate of course, might like to run their hands over. Plus it led down to a nice flat stomach…_

**_You know he can see where you're looking, don't you?_**

_Ohholyfuck..._

"No! No, it's just...umm..."

"Don't worry, I ain't gonna judge ya. After all, yer a woman, an' ya got eyes, don't ya? Now, y'all hurry up and wipe this shit offa me, then we can get down ta some fun. On top or underneath, it don't make no nevermind ta me. Ladies choice."

Stunned as she was, Kate's mind chose to focus on a minor detail. "I thought I smelt?"

"Aw, I've had worse."

_Ladies choice? He's had worse? Hah! Shereen, I take it back. He's totally single._

"Merle, I'm grateful you want to share the... err, _little_ things in life with me," smiled Kate as she looked pointedly at his crotch; that got Merle frowning while she tried to think of another topic. "But now I've got you in the light, I'm wondering what these are." She quickly reached out to his shoulders, where patches of skin seemed to be reddened and peeling. "There's even one on your head! Is…is it _sunburn_?! What on earth have you been doing to yourself?"

Merle seemed to tense in anger but his eyes were distant, so she didn't think he was angry at her. "Long story, darlin'. Long story. The only thin' I did ta myself was this," he growled, holding up his stump, "but others are gonna pay, yessir they are. _Fuckers_."

"You did it to... okay…" Kate responded, not liking the tight look on his face, "I'm sure you'll tell me about it later. For now, let's focus on getting you cleaned up." Kate went over to the corner with fabrics and managed to pick up some small face cloths and towels. Dumping them on the bed next to Merle, who was watching the proceedings like a man used to being catered to, she went downstairs to the kitchen and the locker room.

As she had hoped, there were some reasonable sized bowls in the kitchen, which she managed to partially fill with some of the standing water in the taps. Grabbing a bar of soap from the locker room, Kate carried it carefully back upstairs to Merle. He sat up to watch as she took off her gloves and the leather jacket, and rolled up the silk sleeves of her top. She took one face cloth, dunked it in the water and draped it on the end of the bed. "That's for your face and head," Kate explained. Merle merely raised an eyebrow. Then, wrapping the bar of soap in the other facecloth, she dunked it in the water and reached out for Merle's arm.

"Wha' ya think ya fuckin'…"

"Oh please," she interrupted flatly, "this is probably one of your fantasies. Don't even lie." To his obvious surprise she grabbed his arm and began to gently wipe the damaged skin on his shoulder. After a moment, he gave her a twisted smile.

"Mebbe, but it sure ain't top o' tha list..."

...

Kate was sure it was better for her to do the cleaning, what with all his broken skin; he'd no doubt scrub roughly away in 'tough guy' mode and cause more damage. Fortunately, although Merle didn't assist her, he didn't fight her either. However, Kate found it unnerving that he kept his eyes fixed on her face whenever possible. When she had carefully washed his arms and back, she was left with the bulk of the mess on his chest, which was just starting to run down onto his stomach.

"Umm… I think you should…" she tried in an admirably steady voice, holding out the cloth to him.

Merle rolled back onto his elbows, leaving his chest and stomach exposed to her gaze. "Y'all started this, darlin'," he said, voice perhaps slightly more raspy than usual. "Go 'head an' finish." His position meant that she'd have to kneel on the bed next to him to wash his chest properly. Her eyes narrowed as she wondered if he planned it, but despite his unwavering stare his face gave little away.

_Okay, Kate, play it cool. He's just toying with you a little. It's all above the belt anyway._

**_Which in life, as in sport, is never as interesting to watch._**

_Shut up. _

She took off her boots, which were still splashed with his vomit. She'd need to clean them soon or they would really get quite disgusting. Then, being deliberately ungraceful in an attempt to break the tension, Kate plonked herself heavily down on the bed next to him. As though to steady her, she felt rather than saw Merle's hand slide up to rest on her hip. She was at the wrong angle for him to grab her arse, and she wouldn't have felt it much through the layers of clothing anyway, but she was acutely conscious of it all the same. To distract herself, she began to scrub vigorously at his chest and stomach.

"Argh! Dammit woman," he grimaced, "ya wan' me ta throw up on ya 'gain?"

"Oh! Sorry! Sorry!" Kate felt bad, and resumed more gently. The worse of the blood was still on his chest, and she worked very hard not to notice how the cold water clung to his chest hair, or caused his skin to go taut. She could feel him staring at her face, and the tension as she wiped the cloth over his chest meant she didn't dare meet his eyes. _Neutral smile, neutral smile..._ Desperately she tried to think of a way to break the tension.

"So..."

_When did her voice get so throaty?_ She cleared it and began again.

"So, now we're getting better acquainted, would you like to tell me now what happened to you?"

"No."

_Sooo… that's the end of that conversation._

"Perhaps you'd like to know what I've been doing?"

"No."

_I'm obviously a fascinating companion; he's desperate to preserve my air of mystery... _she thought sarcastically.

"Ah. Of course, you're tired."

"I ain't tired," Merle said softly, his voice definitely deeper. His hand slid up her hip slightly...

_Umm…_

...Kate felt the callused pad of a finger make its way beneath the silk and trail fire along the skin of her waist. She made the mistake of looking up into blue eyes, now burning with lust as well as fever.

_Oh! Err...let's... let's keep it light. Don't see it as a big deal..._

**_But Kate, I think Merle would be hurt if the word 'big' didn't enter your thoughts somewhere along the line..._**

"Behave...,"said Kate softly with a grin, managing to address both Merle and Shereen. She wiped the last bit of gore off him, but she didn't think he'd even noticed.

"Aww, c'mon darlin'," said Merle, cajoling now, his hand now rubbing light circles on her waist. "I'm an injured man, ya gotta be nice ta me..."

"Haven't I _been_ nice to you?" she questioned with smiling disbelief, as she leaned across him and dropped the cloth into the bowl on the floor. "I've sheltered you, fed you, cleaned your wounds..."

"Ya done everythin' a good woman should," he smirked at Kate, trying to sit up and lean towards her, eyes fixed on her mouth, "Now I want ya ta do wha' a bad woman would..."

_Hmm, no harm in a little teasing. He has been a bit of an arse today after all..._

Kate leaned towards him, and she saw his eyes light up as she placed a soft hand in the middle of that firm chest and pushed him back onto the bed, hovering over him and attempting to make her gaze sultry. "Now Merle, the bad woman in me is tempted to keep you up all night. And I _could_ do it, Merle," she emphasised, dropping her eyes to his mouth and allowing a little bit of throaty purr to seep into her voice, "I would... keep you...**_up_**... _all_... _night_." She heard his breathing catch.

_Yeah, still got it..._

She suddenly switched back to brisk tone of voice and sat back again. "However, the good girl in me can't help but feel you need you rest. After all, you've lost a lot of blood with that wound, and I expect it's all needed _exactly_ where it is, if you know what I mean..."

Merle seemed to realise he'd been had, and not in the way he wanted. His brows lowered and he began to scowl. "Why you lil' fuckin'..."

"Aren't I though? But not so much of one I won't rewrap your wrist. You'll feel much better after that." She skipped off down the stairs before he could say anything, ignoring her boots.

...

**_You know, I think he's feeling much better now, judging by the way he was starting to tent those jeans…_**

_Just stop. I'm dirty…_

**_I know, I was there, you filthy girl!_**

_Yes, _**_thank you_**_, Shereen, we both know it's been a while. _

**_You were wrong to tease him though. That was mean..._**

_I know..._

Kate grabbed her bag and, after a moment's hesitation, his bag as well. After all, Merle might have some stuff that would be useful. She hefted them as best she could over her shoulders and carried them up the stairs. When she reached the top, Merle was flaked out on the bed, his good arm resting over his eyes. "Okay, I've got some bandages and iodine here, but I think a severe wound like that will probably use them up. I brought your bag up as well, in case you had anything useful in there." Merle removed his arm but didn't sit up, instead shooting her a disgruntled look that Kate promptly ignored.

"Alright, sit up and let's have a look," she said, tossing the bandages onto the bed along with the iodine. Merle finally sat up, still looking grumpy, but held his arm out to her. Gently, she unwrapped the bandages, trying to ignore the smell. When she finally peeled back the last of the bandages, causing Merle to wince as some scab came off with it, she just managed to keep her face blank, though she couldn't help drawing in a breath.

There was something horrifying surreal and dehumanising about seeing the stump where Merle's hand should be; Kate would almost have preferred to see his hand terribly mangled rather than completely absent. The wound seemed to have come straight through the wrist, but it still looked very raw where it wasn't burnt. _Had he cauterised it? _The edges were twisted where muscle and sinew no longer connected to bone and flesh. She looked up to find Merle studying it with a curled lip, as though scornful of his own injury.

She couldn't help it. "How did this happen?"

"Had ta cut it off," he said quietly. Then he looked at her, and she knew the sympathy she couldn't hide in her eyes annoyed him. "I don't need yer fuckin' pity," he hissed viciously.

Kate nodded, expecting such a reaction from him, and turned back to the injury. Pouring some iodine onto a cloth, she began to clean the wound as gently as she could. Fortunately, most of the smell seemed to have come from the dirty bandages, and she could only see one area of skin at the edge of the wound which looked to be infected. "Does it hurt here?"

"Anywhere ya can see me missin' a fuckin' _hand_, tha's where it hurts," he snapped back.

"Is it itching at all?" Kate tried instead.

He studied her with a narrow gaze, before grudgingly admitting, "Yeah, itches all over tha end."

"Hmm, I believe that's good; it means its healing. If it was stinging or burning anywhere, I'd be worried about infection."

Merle seemed to be considering something, before saying, "Burns a bit there," pointing to the spot Kate had thought looked a little inflamed, "ain't nothin' I can't handle though." Kate touched it gently; it felt hotter than the rest of his arm, and though he said nothing his eyes flickered slightly. Slowly, gently, Kate leaned forward and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead.

"You're hot..." she started, and waited for the obligatory comment about how she had finally fucking noticed, or that he wasn't going to deny it, or something like that. Instead he was silent.

_Oh dear, he really is pissed at me._

"Do you have any antibiotics at all? I'm afraid I only have painkillers."

"Gimme my bag." Kate brought his bag over to the bad and placed it next to him. After a moment's searching he pulled out a bottle of pills.

"What's that?"

"Cefalexin."

"And that will take care of the infection?" Merle merely nodded, before holding the bottle between his knees and twisting off the cap easily. Tipping it, he knocked out two pills before swallowing them. Kate had to admit she was impressed with how well he seemed to be coping with the loss of his hand. He reached in and did the same with another bottle, and Kate assumed this time it was painkillers.

"I won't wrap your arm right away, we'll let it breathe for a bit. Here's the other bowl of water and a fresh cloth if you want to clean the rest of yourself. Oh, and here," she threw him a small bottle of mouthwash, "you don't want that stomach acid to rot your teeth." She picked up some towels and her bag and went to go. "I'll be downstairs if you need anything." Merle said nothing, and watched her leave with narrowed eyes.

Kate went to the locker room and sorted out her own bowl of soapy water. Stripping and washing herself down, she revelled in feeling at least mostly clean again. There wasn't a lot she could do for her greasy hair without shampoo, but she soaped it up and rinsed it as best she could anyway. She fished out the last of her relatively clean clothing from the bag; she'd been saving it for when he finally made it to this building. She put on the fresh underwear and the tank top and shorts. It was total and pure bliss to be out of her hot layers of silk and leather. Sadly she still had to put her old dirty socks back on, which reminded her that her still-to-be-cleaned-of-vomit boots were up with Merle.

_I have a feeling he's going to make my life a lot more difficult._

**_More interesting though._**

_True, it's more interesting than being on my own._

**_Oh, back to this again are we?_**

_I give up..._

She went back upstairs carrying her bag and her dirty clothes, only to be confronted by what might be described as a fascinating sight.

Obviously having taken her advice to wash, Merle was now completely naked.

...

He was facing away from her, washing his legs with the cloth, and she had a magnificent view of how his strong upper body led into round muscular buttocks and down to powerful, slightly hairy legs.

**_Careful, the road to Hell is paved with awesome arses..._**

_I thought it was paved with good intentions?_

**_Your road to Hell, maybe... _**Shereen sniffed dismissively.

_Your road to Hell does sound more interesting, _Kate acknowledged fairly.

Kate spun on her heel and started to go back downstairs silently. However, Merle's voice stopped her. "Ain't no point sneakin' off, I heard yer comin' up."

"What?! Then why didn't you put some clothes on?"

"Like I said, I heard yer comin' up." The volume of his voice had changed subtly, so she was pretty sure he was now facing her. "Ain't ya gonna turn aroun'?"

"Absolutely not."

"Why?"

"Because there's still a chance I'm not spoilt for other men."

He laughed at that, "I see ya took them fuck ugly clothes off."

_Is he happy again? It's certainly a challenge keeping up with his mood swings. _

"Well, some random guy I met pointed out that I stank, so I thought I'd better have a wash."

"Guy sounds like an asshole."

"Yes, but I'm too polite to tell him."

"Nice of ya," he agreed, before asking resignedly, "Ya ain't comin' up here, are ya?"

"No, I'll come up. I'm determined to sleep in a bed and your being naked won't stop me, but I admit it would be nice if you could put some underpants on. You know, just to prevent me having unreasonable expectations of other men in future."

He gave a low humming chuckle. "Tha' wha'd happen, darlin'?" His voice suggested he was enjoying this, and Kate was keen to keep him in his newfound good mood.

"Of course. After all, we don't know how many women who have seen you naked have survived the apocalypse. If I'm the only one left who is yet capable of being satisfied with another man, then your sense of modesty now could be absolutely _pivotal_ in ensuring the survival of the whole human species."

"Huh. Well, so long as ya know ya can't expect other fellas ta unleash tha beast like ol' Merle. Hold on," and there was the sound of wet fabric and a small splash, then the rustle of clothing. "Alright, ya can c'mon up."

Deciding not to show hesitation, Kate turned around and marched up, not averting her eyes from him. He had thankfully put on his boxers, but all in all it was still a view a healthy, red blooded woman could enjoy.

"Tha' better fer ya?"

"Yes, most considerate, Merle." She dumped her stuff by the top of the stairs and went to clear away the various dirty bowls and towels, ultimately deciding to dump them in one of the more distant display bathtubs. She used one of the less dirty towels to wipe the vomit off her shoes, which would have to be enough for tonight. The light from the windows was getting increasingly dim and she was starting to feel a little tired; it had been one of her more exciting days since this whole thing began.

As an afterthought, she went over to a chest of drawers, and with some effort moved it across to the top of the stairs forming a barrier. It wouldn't stop a zombie, but they would make some noise getting past it. She looked over and found Merle still sitting on the single bed watching her work. He nodded, as though he agreed with what she had done, which made her feel a little more affectionate towards him again. "So, which bed are you sleeping in?"

"Yours," he shot back with a grin. Kate had fully expected something like this.

"Oh, in that case...," she began, putting the purr back into her voice. She walked over to the double bed furthest from him. "This bed is _mine_," she said breathily, trailing her hand along it, before pointing at the other double, "and _that_ bed is _yours_." As he shook his head, still grinning, she added "Now, do you want me to bandage up your arm before I retire?"

He suddenly looked a little uneasy. "Can't. Got no bandages."

"What? Where are the ones I left with you?"

"Got dirty," he replied shortly. Kate had a terrible sense of foreboding.

"When you say _they_ got dirty, do you mean _you_ got them dirty?" He looked a little sheepish if that was possible.

_Jesus, he dropped them in the dirty water because_ _I wouldn't sleep with him? Unbelievable. _

She covered her face with her hands and tried to stay calm. "That was incredibly childish of you, wasn't it?" she grumbled, ignoring the look of surprise on his face. "I told you those were my last bandages. I don't know if I've got anything else we can use."

"Don't matter, if we ain't sharin' a bed I don't s'pose I'm gonna be doin' anythin' excitin' tonight. Them pills'll knock me out soon anyway."

"I'm not sure we should leave your arm like that all night. You go and lie down, I'll have a think."

"Ya still gonna help me then?"

_Am I? Yes, I suppose. Odd that I hadn't really considered not helping you._

"Against my better judgement."

"Ya gonna help me ta bed too?"

"Do you _really_ need help?" she asked suspiciously.

"Sure," he said eagerly, "especially now them pills are kickin' in. Could lose my balance."

"You, unbalanced? No!" Said Kate with considerable sarcasm, as she resigned herself to getting felt up again. She walked over and propped herself under his arm; surprisingly, she noted he now smelt quite acceptable. However, as she suspected, the hand that came around her waist managed to slip a few fingers under her top, so she clamped her own down on top of it as they went over the nearest bed. _Note to self: next time, remember to stand on his right side. _She pulled back the covers and dropped him to the bed. "There, now make sure you leave your injury on the coverlet if you feel yourself dropping off."

"Don't I get me a kiss goodnight?" he grinned cheekily.

"No, you certainly don't, and it's your own fault," said Kate cheerfully, patting his stubbled cheek. "I _might_ have considered it, but _you_ threw away my bandages, which means I have to spend the time I could have spent kissing you into a sexual stupor looking for an alternative. Actions have con-se-quen-ces..." she added in a sing-song tone.

Turning her back on Merle's stunned silence, she started rummaging through the bags, and debated taking them down to one of the big dining tables on the ground floor, so she could spread out what they had over a flat surface. However, it would be even darker downstairs with the tiny uncovered windows and those bodies were... her hand came to rest on something.

_Ahh...hello..._

**_I see what you're thinking, and my advice is don't._**

_I can see no other option._

**_You mean you don't want to; this is just petty payback for wasting your bandages_**_._

_No!...well, only in part. This is really the best option._

**_Maybe, but he will lose his shit if you do this, and you overestimate your ability to manage him if he does._**

_Nonsense. He's a rational man, and after a moment's calm reflection..._

**_I'm sorry, I was talking about Merle, who were you talking about?_**

_If I can just explain to him he'll be fine._

**_You'll have to talk fast then. You won't be able to say much with a face full of brickwork._**

_Once I've trimmed them, taped them up, he won't even be able to tell._

**_Trust me, he's a man of the world; he'll be able to tell._**

After a few minutes fiddling about pulling the materials and equipment together, Kate went back over to Merle. He was in bed now and had just dozed off, but his arm was dutifully placed on the covers. She couldn't see him very clearly, but she thought he looked a bit more peaceful in sleep.

Using the last of the light, she went to work, and hoped he wouldn't kill her for it in the morning.

...

There we go, a little bit of Kate and Merle friskiness originally planned for Christmas. I know The Scorpion Sleeps has been eagerly awaiting some nekkid Merle.

Many thanks for reading and reviewing, and have a wonderful New Year!


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

As Merle awoke, he realised he was surprisingly comfortable.

Something about that struck him as odd and unfamiliar.

His sleepy brain slowly coming to alert, he sensed someone creeping up behind him as he lay on the bed. Keeping his eyes shut, biding his time, he waited until he heard the light step come sufficiently near…

…instantly he half turned, artfully grabbed the wrist of his assailant and used their own weight to tip them over his hip and onto the bed beside him. Merle had them pinned beneath his body and his stump pressing down on their throat before he realised the attacker seemed rather slight and unresisting. He looked down into wide startled eyes and a face that was even paler than usual.

"Ghhghh…" it wheezed.

_Aw… shit._

Merle lifted his stump off the woman's throat and she gasped, "Your arm!" He looked down and noticed he was leaning heavily on her chest. He quickly slid it off onto to the mattress beside her. "What the_ hell_ were you _thinking_?" she rasped out. Merle hadn't thought he'd pressed that hard, but he'd never done this to a woman; he supposed they were a bit more fragile.

"Thought ya was someone else," he shrugged. _Wha' tha fuck did tha woman expect, sneakin' up on him like that?_

"_Really?_ Friend or family?," she asked sarcastically, reaching up to clasp her throat before wincing at the movement and changing to press her tit instead, "Ahh God, you git, that really hurt! These aren't bloody _airbags_, you know. They're not designed to have your great meaty elbows smash into them!"

"Ya wan' me ta kiss it better, darlin'?" he grinned, trying to lighten the mood. _Not like he fuckin' meant ta hurt her…_

"Oh, geroff, you big oaf!" She sounded exasperated and pushed at his bare chest with her free hand; she completely failed to move him even slightly.

"Dunno 'bout tha', kinda like ya where ya are," he tried to tease, waggling his eyebrows at her suggestively.

She snorted, only half amused. "Well flinging me about and squashing me is _not_ the best way to get me into bed," she responded tartly, before pausing awkwardly as she remembered where she was, "at least, not for that. Now, come on, let me up, or I'm going to avenge my bruised boobs with some bruised balls."

He sighed and rolled off her, folding his arms behind his head. He was surprised when she stayed where she was for a moment, one hand still pressed to her tit, while the other moved up to rub her throat. She looked a bit shaky and Merle frowned; _dammit, he'd said he hadn't meant ta hurt her, why'd she have ta make such a big fuckin' deal outta it?_

_She don't know you from fuckin' Adam, brother. She don't know wha' shit ya thinkin' when ya got her pinned down onna bed like tha'._

He watched her warily as she sat up slowly, sitting cross legged on the bed. "So," she said in a matter of fact voice, "can I expect such delightful treatment every morning?"

"I wasn't gonna hurt ya," he snapped, more irritated than comforting, "jus' heard someone sneakin' up on me is all. Didn't know who tha fuck it was." Merle could feel her staring at him, so he kept his eyes stonily fixed on the covers in front of him. Suddenly she sighed, uncrossed her legs and stretched out next to him on her stomach, resting her chin on one of her hands.

Merle lifted his eyes to the now excellent view down her vest top, and his mind began to wander. _She really did look pretty damn good when she weren't wearin' her zombie fightin' gear. Mebbe he could talk her outta them? Or mebbe he could 'accidentally on purpose' get rid of tha fuckin' nasty things when she weren't lookin'…_

"So, did you learn to do that when you in the Army?" Merle was sufficiently distracted from his reverie to answer honestly.

"Weren't in tha fuckin' _Army_," he sneered, "I was a Marine. An' naw, I picked tha' shit up in juvie."

"Makes sense," she didn't sound surprised, "I don't suppose you want anyone there sneaking up on you when you're asleep." She paused as though debating her next question, then said cautiously, "Were you in prison as well?"

Merle didn't see any point denying it, but he watched her reactions carefully. "Yeah."

"May I ask what for?"

_Always so fuckin' polite._

"Ya can ask." Merle was curious as to how far she'd be brave enough to push it.

"Alright, look, cards on the table, okay? I don't really care if, I don't know… you were banged up for _stealing_ or something like that. Normally I wouldn't consider it any of my business. However, after our little contretemps just now I just... I just want you to tell me if you were put away because you were violent, if you… hurt people."

_Lucky there could only be one thing she was talkin' 'bout_, Merle thought, _'cause I'm fucked if I know what a con-tra-tomp is._

Merle unfurled his arms from behind his head and slowly leaned forward so he was on eye level with her. "Ya should ha' asked me tha' before ya gimme yer gun…"

He gave the woman credit, she held her ground as well as her breath, and he was now close enough to see the lines of blue and grey-green around her pupils as they dilated. He held her gaze firmly as he answered what he guessed was her real question.

"…I done a lotta things, an' I ain't gonna apologise ta yer nor nobody fer a single fuckin' one of 'em, but I ain't never harmed no women, an' I ain't plannin' ta change tha' now."

_It wasn't entirely true, but it was true enough fer wha' she meant._

She studied him, as though she could read the truth in his face. Merle knew that was a mistake; he'd met enough people who could convince you the sky was red with purple fuckin' spots and not even blink, but he wasn't going to tell her that now. The tension built for a few seconds between them as they held each others stare. _Jus' a few more inches an' he'd be close enough ta…_

She opened her mouth to speak, and he dropped his gaze with interest as her pink tongue flicked out to moisten her lips.

"Do you want some breakfast? It's hot."

The tension apparently broken, Merle grinned and playfully reached for her wrist in an attempt to pull her closer. "I'll say ya are…"

Her face broke into a smile and she caught a couple of his large fingers in her small hand, surprising him by keeping hold of them loosely. Merle felt odd, the two of them kinda holding hands like this, but he took the opportunity to brush his rough thumb over that velvet skin of hers anyway. "Flattered as I am, Merle, it's something even better. How would you feel about sort-of bacon and eggs?"

"I don't know 'bout _better_, but it sounds good." His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why's it _sorta_ bacon an' eggs?"

"Because it's not proper eggs and it's not proper bacon, but I'm pretty sure I can make it palatable since the cooker is working. _Plus_ I found some long life orange juice; I've had an incredibly lucky streak on food supplies this morning. Are you in?"

"Guess I can try it," he said mock grudgingly.

She scrunched up her face in mock disgust. "Please Merle, control yourself! You know us Brits find these excessive displays of enthusiasm very distasteful. Now, I'll go start it and you can come down when you're dressed." She let go of his hand and rolled off the bed, and had started to go downstairs when Merle was struck by a sudden thought.

"Hey!" he called, and she turned at the top of the stairs, an inquisitive smile on her face. "Wha' would ya ha' done if I'd said I beat up on women, or some shit like tha'?" he asked curiously.

After a moment's surprise her face instantly became serious and considering, but Merle was starting to get her measure; there was definitely a glint of humour in her eye. "Ooh, I don't know, nothing fancy. Probably offer to make you a breakfast no man could resist and then just poison it." Smiling wickedly at his bemused expression, she turned and started down the stairs again, calling back to him, "Now don't take too long, will you? I want you to eat it while it's nice and toxi… I mean hot! Nice and hot."

His bark of laughter followed her down the stairs.

…

Merle was in a fuckin' good mood. He had a hot woman making him breakfast and, although still itchy, his arm was barely burning now; a few more antibiotics and painkillers would soon knock that out. He knocked back the said pills dry, then pulled on his jeans and managed the fly one handed; he'd got used to that at least. Since his t-shirt was covered in dried fuckin' blood he debated putting on his waistcoat, but there didn't seem much point. He heard some noise downstairs, and realised she was singing. He tried to make out a few words.

"…Toniiight… Ah-tomic!... Ahh-aah-tomic!... "

_Huh, at least now he'd heard her sing, he knew she wasn't fuckin' perfect._

Putting on his socks he shoved his feet into his boots, making sure one of them still contained a hunting knife, and began to make his way down the stairs, admiring the work she'd done on his stump while he was sleeping. He was sort of surprised at himself that he'd trusted her to do it.

_Did it up pretty good; not tha way a proper field medic would ha' done it a course, but she'd taped tha secondary dressin' in firmly but not too tight, like ya should… though he didn't know why she'd been bitchin' 'bout them fuckin' bandages when she had these. Still, lil' woman had still helped him out, ya had ta give her tha'. Fuck it, he'd have ta find out her name a' some point; even he didn't feel right jus' callin' her woman all tha fuckin' time. _

If Merle was honest with himself, he felt a tiny bit bad about those bandages, even though she hadn't reacted as badly as he expected. The truth was he hadn't ruined them deliberately; his dizziness had caused him to overbalance when trying to wash his feet, and when he caught himself on the bed he'd knocked the bandages into the dirty water. Of course, given he'd already fuckin' puked up his guts in front of her like a goddamn pussy-bitch, he let think it was deliberate; the last thing he wanted to do was lose what was left of his pride…

…Merle paused on the stairs and frowned as he looked harder at the wrappings on his wrist.

_Wha' tha fuck was wit' tha shape a these things? Were they some specialist shit? Kinda looked like… _

_...she wouldn't. _

_She wouldn't fuckin' dare._

_She had. _

_She fuckin' __**had.**_

_Tha' fuckin' BITCH!_

"WOMAN!" he roared as he ran down the last few steps.

He heard a surprised but good humoured shout from the employee area "Oh my God, Merle, _what_?! I left you for, like, two minutes?! How can you be pissed again already? Oh, is there some bipolar situation here that I should be aware of?" Merle entered the employee lounge as she turned to him from the counter, where she had set out some contents from a nearby cupboard. Merle fought to maintain some control over the red mist that threatened to descend, and held up his bandaged stump to her blank look.

"What. in tha _fuck_. is on tha end a my fuckin' arm?!" he yelled. She winced and smiled crookedly, and Merle suddenly knew she'd been waiting for this moment.

"I'm assuming this isn't a trick question?" she asked, her eyes slightly wary. Merle snarled and moved forward, gripping the edge of the table between them and effortlessly tossing it into a corner of the room. That apparently put some fuckin' fear of God into her, since she looked shocked. "Alright, Merle! Alright! We're both adults here, let's use our words, shall we? Yes, I bandaged your wound with the resources available…"

"Don't ya dare, don't ya _fuckin' dare_ call these… these _things_ resources!" he hissed from between clenched teeth.

"They are not _things_, they are _sanitary towels_, Merle, and completely hygienic. You needn't make it sound as though they're impregnated with evil lady-parts lurgi on the production line." His confusion must have shown on his face, as she added cautiously, "Umm... lurgi is like cooties. Now, okay, yes, I bandaged your wound with sanitary towels, but what else could I do? You destroyed the only proper dressings I had!"

Merle closed his eyes, grinding his teeth and breathing deeply in a last ditch attempt to keep a grip on his temper.

_Tha's tha price a ya Dixon pride, brother. Ya know she wouldn't a pulled this shit if ya'd told her tha truth 'bout them bandages. Hell, she pro'bly would'a got all sympathetic on ya ass an' given ya tha' goddamn kiss an' all…_

Merle growled._ Anglin' fer pity fucks. No, worse, pity fuckin' kisses! Had it come ta this fer ol' Merle?_

"Take 'em off," he ground out finally, holding out his arm and trying not to think too hard about what was on there… or where they usually went… and what for…

"But…"

"Fuckin' hell, woman! Take these fuckin' things offa me 'fore I beat ya ass!"

She sighed and walked forward, before lightly clasping his forearm in both hands. She spoke calmly, looking him right in the eyes. "If you want me to take it off I will…"

"Get tha fuck on wit' it then!"

"…but, let me ask you first; what will we replace it with? I don't have anything that would be a suitable alternative."

"Who fuckin' cares?"

"You'll fucking care," she responded calmly, "because you'll get it infected. Then you'll be sick again and we both know you don't like that. It makes you pissy..."

"_Pissy_?!" Merle finally exploded. "Jesus fuckin' _Christ_, woman, I get pissed! Pissed! See, like right now; I'm not upset or pissy or even a lil' bit goddamn _huffy_, I'm fuckin' well pissed!"

Unbelievably, she seemed to be holding back a smile. "…_and_ aggressive. And _I'll_ care because I've sacrificed some of my precious and rapidly diminishing supply of feminine hygiene products to try and help you, and I'd like to delay as long as possible the necessity of shoving the nearest and most absorbent looking woodchuck into my pants."

_Tha fuck? _Merle stared at her round-eyed, anger taking a back seat for a moment as he tried desperately to block the images that conjured up in his mind. "D'ya know what a woodchuck is?"

She looked uncertain, and said cautiously, "Uh…is it… is it not sort of like a chipmunk?"

He snorted in disgust_. _"It ain't like a chipmunk."

_Goddamn _c_ity folk. _

"You know, Merle, it's not like anyone else is going to see them," she said eagerly, trying to take advantage of the side-track, "and we can make looking for proper bandages our _top_ priority…"

"Gimme my breakfast, woman," he cut her off, not wanting to think about what he was letting her get away with. _Bein' too fuckin' soft again, tha' was always his problem._

"Are there any magic words you think are missing from that sentence?" she asked pointedly.

"Gimme my fuckin' breakfast _now_!" he snapped. She didn't look scared, merely raising a disapproving eyebrow and turning back to the food. Merle dragged the table out of the corner and sat down at it, sullenly watching her as she sorted things and began cooking, his anger simmering away below the surface. Idly he wondered if putting her over his knee and giving that sweet ass of hers a spanking would count as harming her. However, the idea of her face down over his lap with her creamy buttocks turning pink under his hand led to other ideas, which most definitely did not involve harming her or even remaining pissed at her at all, so he shut that line of thinking down and fixed a frown on his face.

_No way he was gonna let some bitch think she could fuckin' handle him._

…

The plates and cutlery she set out were largely mismatched but clean; probably stuff different employees had brought from home. She poured them both out equal portions of orange juice and left it on the table, and since his cup was larger he quietly added more to his when her back was turned. He was surprised when she also gave them glasses of milk. He didn't think it had shown on his face, but she must have worked out something.

"It's UHT. I had to open it for the eggs, and it won't keep in the heat now it's open. We might as well use it up." Merle just stared at her, and she said nothing further as she turned back to the cooker, frowning unhappily a little. He drank the milk down in one go, saving the juice to wash down his eggs.

_After all, he might need it; fer all he knew, she could be a fuckin' terrible cook._

As it turned out, she seemed to have managed to create what looked to be some fairly passable scrambled eggs, and she spooned a generous portion onto his plate. However, Merle wasn't letting her off the hook just because she could heat some goddamn eggs. "Where's tha fuckin' bacon?"

"Wait a minute!" she snapped, "I've only got two…" she bit off the rest of the sentence sharply, and Merle felt his temper flare again, though she at least had the decency to look embarrassed when she sat down at the table with what appeared to be a large box of seasoning. "They're bacon bits," she explained almost apologetically. "I thought about mixing them in with the eggs but they're quite salty and I wasn't sure…._hey_, what are you doing?!"

Merle had taken the box from her hand and tipped it over his eggs. I wasn't quite half full, so he had a fair covering of bacon over his eggs. "Merle, that was for both of us!" she exclaimed, looking upset.

"Well, now i's fer one of us, ain't it?" responded Merle viciously, finally sensing his vengeance to be at hand.

_So ta speak…_

Merle watched as her face changed from upset to anger; he realised he hadn't really seen her angry before, even with the gun stuff yesterday. It was a whole other level. Her eyes sparkled and cheeks flushed, which looked good on her, but her lips were compressed so tightly together that the skin around them went completely white. When she spoke, her voice was cold and quiet.

"You selfish shit. Why would you do that? All I've done is help you, and you…" she seemed to lose control of her ability to speak for a moment.

"Listen bitch, I didn't fuckin' ask ya ta help me," Merle interrupted, "I don't owe ya nothin'!"

"Did I _ask_ you for anything? Did I? I haven't even asked you to be grateful that I saved your gormless arse from being eaten! But you can't even treat me with a little bloody respect, can you? Well, you know what, Merle? That's fine. I'm done." She picked up her plate and glass, and stood up. "You can fuck off, Merle. You can just fuck _right_ off."

"Well, fuck you too, princess," yelled Merle, as she stalked from the employee lounge and out of sight, "ain't no skin offa my prick." When he was sure she was not going to respond, Merle turned back to his breakfast and began to tuck in, looking forward to the taste of victory.

It turned out victory tasted like sitting alone while trying to choke down eggs ruined with too much salty bacon and a disturbing sense that he had done something wrong.

Still, he cleaned his plate, leaving not a scrap behind. Merle was a fuckin' Dixon, and the important thing was that you won.

You didn't have to enjoy it.

…

Merle deliberately left his plate and glass on the table for her to clean up and wandered through to the main shop. She wasn't around; _must ha' gone upstairs ta sulk on her bed like a typical pussy._ _Well, fuck her then._

By the looks of the drag marks, sometime earlier she'd helpfully pulled the geeks from yesterday into the little office and shut the door on them, so hopefully they wouldn't stink up the place too much. He lay down on a deep-cushioned couch which could take his size comfortably, enjoying the cool semi-darkness provided by the shutters. Maybe he could sleep off the churning sensation in his gut, given he was determined not to go and talk to that uppity bitch. It probably hadn't helped his stomach that he'd drunk her milk as well. _After all, weren't his fault she'd left it ta go ta waste…_

He closed his eyes and… _wait, he could take some a his stash. Couple o' ludes would be good right about now._

He looked around, and realised the bags were still up with her and swore_. Still, mebbe he shouldn't top up too much wit' tha antibiotics an' painkillers still floating around in his system._

He relaxed back into the cushions and let his mind wander, waiting to doze off. He didn't want to admit it but even with the antibiotics and a decent night's sleep, he still wasn't firing on all engines. If only he could get rid of this sick feeling he had now…

_That ain't breakfast fuckin' yer up, brother; ya know ya've eaten worse than tha' in yer time. Yer ain't feelin' right cause ya know yer done fucked up wit' tha' girl there, lettin' ya shitty temper get tha better a ya._

Fuck that shit. If anyone had fucked up it was her. Merle just couldn't understand, what the hell could she have been thinking? She _knew_ he was going to get mad, he'd seen in her face that she was expecting him to react badly. It was her own fault, and it was only his fuckin' self-control that had saved her. She didn't know what a goddamn lucky escape she'd had; if she'd been a man he would have kicked her teeth right out the back of her fuckin' throat.

_Control? You? Shit, who yer think ya foolin'? An' if she were a man, she pro'bly wouldn't ha' given a fuck once she thought ya'd tossed them bandages, an' now ya'd be dealin' wit' a worse infection on an' empty stomach. She might not even ha' opened tha' fuckin' door ta tha alley… mebbe tha's what's makin' ya sick, brother, knowin' tha' ya owe her an' ya jus' treated her like dogshit…_

Merle's guts twisted a little more. _I didn't ask fer her help, an' an empty stomach might be fuckin' better than this_. He closed his eyes, determined to doze off until she came in search of his company. Hell, maybe she'd even apologise; perhaps then he could suggest how she might show ol' Merle just how sorry she was, real _personal_ like…

_Jesus, an' you think Darylina's fucked up 'bout women._

…

It had been nearly four hours now, and Merle hadn't seen her since breakfast.

However, for the last few hours he'd been deliberately ignoring the few bangs and scraping noises that were coming from upstairs. She was definitely up to something, not that he was going to go up there and make her think he was interested in whatever shit she was getting herself into.

_Still… wha' if she don't even know I'm still pissed at her? Mebbe she thinks I'm just sleepin'… guess I could go and cuss her out a lil', let her know I ain't no walkover…_

There was a particularly loud bang from upstairs.

_What in tha fuck is she doin'? Shit, mebbe I should go check it out. Don't wan' this place fallin' on my fuckin' head._

Merle made his way upstairs, and was surprised to find it completely deserted. He was about to call out when he noticed that the door to the roof was open and a large fire hose had been trailed from outside into one of the bathtubs, which now held a decent amount of water. In fact, so did the other three display bathtubs.

_Wha' tha fuck had she been up to?_

He looked at the door leading out onto the roof. Bright Georgia sunlight streamed in, and he could hear a faint breeze blowing across the roof. No birds though. They didn't bother with high places anymore; all the food was down in the streets. Despite the warmth of the day, Merle felt cold.

_C'mon, ya fuckin' pussy. Grow some hair on them balls an' git up on tha' roof! _

Merle steeled himself and went through the door, grabbing his leather waistcoat on the way. It wouldn't do much but some of his skin was still a little raw. He noticed as he passed that from the look of it, she had pried off the padlock with the crowbar. _Tough lil' bitch, ain't ya?_ he thought as he strode out blinking into the glare.

_Jesus._

..._  
_

The roof was so similar to the one in Atlanta it was fuckin' eerie. The same flat concrete expanse with a few rusty metal pipes, the same steel door he had walked out of onto it. It had one other similarity which unnerved him further…

…he was the only person there.

However, she'd obviously been there. The hosepipe that led into the building stemmed from a round metal water tank drum, one that must be there in case of fire rather than for rainwater. She'd attached the hose and run out the water. Merle was secretly a little impressed with how she'd spent her time. The roof had a few odd things scattered over it, obviously leftovers from earlier refurbishments. Some two by fours, an old wooden door. The oddest thing was the rusting metal ladder though.

The ladder had been put across the gap between their current building and the one next door, providing a precarious bridge to what looked to be a small shopping mall.

Like the roof he stood on, its door was also set in a raised frame emerging from the roof of the mall.

Like his door, it was open.

_She'd gone across by herself? Dammit, could she really have been so pissed she'd gone an' left him?_ Merle was surprised by how much that annoyed him. _Women, always fuckin' over-reacting…_

_Fuck brother, wha' d'ya expect, throwin' her 'round an' actin' like a total asshole ta her? Probably gone an' got herself dead 'cause a y'all. Ya ain't no different than yer ol' man._

Merle's mind rebelled at the thought, but then he remembered he'd seen her bag was still by her bed. She wouldn't have left without it, so she must be planning on coming back. But what if she'd managed to get herself in trouble? He sighed in irritation.

_Too fuckin' soft, I've always said it._

"Woman?" he called softly, trying not to alert anything else that might be about. No response. "Goddamn fuckin' women," he muttered to himself, and went back inside to get his gun. Tucking it into his pants, he returned to the ladder and stepped cautiously onto the low wall that formed the edge of the roof. It wasn't a huge gap between the buildings, and with two hands he could have jumped it easily if he had to.

_But I don't got two hands no more, do I, Officer Friendly? Ya cunt._

Slowly, he edged out onto the ladder, testing each rung before putting his weight onto it. Eventually he reached the other side, and stepped down relieved onto the roof. There was no sound coming from the doorway, which looked pitch black compared to the blazing rooftop around him. Slipping the knife out of his boot, he approached it slowly.

Suddenly, he was distracted by a bright flash of light in his peripheral vision. Turning towards the north-east horizon, he heard a distant thunder-like rumble and, after a few seconds, saw black smoke pour into the sky from some distance away. Merle walked over to the edge of the roof and watched as the dark cloud rose higher and higher, wondering what could have caused such a big ass explosion; it was too small for them to be napalming the city again. He tried to think what was based out that way; perhaps fuel a dump at one of the military checkpoints had gone up…

He was so distracted he didn't hear her until she came flying out of the door.

His head whipped round in time to see her leap dangerously onto the ladder and begin to scramble across, panting in terror. "Wha' tha _hell_ are ya doin'?" he yelled, jogging over as she was about to clamber off the other side. Startled, she turned too quickly, catching the ladder with her crowbar and knocking it off the lip of the roof. They both reached for it as it fell and they both missed, watching in what seemed like slow motion as it caught halfway down on a window ledge on the mall side, just out of reach.

"Goddammit!" Merle looked up, ready to cuss the woman out for her clumsiness, but he was frozen into silence as he saw the blind horror in her face and the slow shake of her head.

Then he heard it; the moans, the shuffling of feet… _lots_ of feet…

He turned his head, knowing what he was going to see and not wanting to see it all the same.

_No…no…_

In the darkness of the doorway he somehow saw movement, black shapes moving within in that jerky, inhuman way. He turned away and saw she was still watching him. "Jump," she whispered, her eyes on his, almost pleading, but he knew the likelihood of him making it with one hand. He turned away from her, facing the door and watching the ragged outlines move faster as they saw him, smelt him. He knew, he _knew_…

_I'm gonna die._

He turned back to look at the last human being he would ever see, and his heart wrenched that it wouldn't be Daryl.

_Huh…_

He didn't know why there was a part of him that didn't believe it. Hell, he should have expected it.

She was gone.

…

_I'm gonna die…_

…_looks tha' way, brother…_

… _yeah, but I'm gonna die like a fuckin' Dixon. _

He tucked his knife into his belt for easy access and pulled out the gun. Holding out the gun one handed, as each geek staggered eagerly out into the sunlight he quickly fired bullet after bullet into their brains.

"Take tha' ya fucks!" he yelled. "Ya wanna take ol' Merle down? Fuckin' try! OORAH!"

…_five bullet's left…four…three… they were still comin'…two…one…_

He tucked the gun back in his pants and pulled out the knife, moving quickly round as another dozen spilled out on the roof. They began to follow him as he led them around the roof and pipes and then back, before slamming the door shut and jamming the gun into the hinge. He leapt out of reach of the nearest one's hands and quickly started backing up and around again. At least now he only had to deal with the ones that were already on the roof, though he knew with just a knife that was still too many.

"C'mon, you motherfuckers, c'mon!" he muttered to himself, waiting for an opening, the adrenaline raging through his system. _He wasn't gonna lay hisself down and die fer 'em._

Something caught his eye at the back of the group. Some of them seemed to have fallen, and they weren't getting back up. Some of them even seemed distracted and confused, and were turning away from him. He took his opportunity, and stabbed two of them sharply in head before the others turned their focus back on him. He was already out of reach by then of course, and was angling for his next victims when he heard her.

"Here zombie zombie zombie! Come on, guys, over here!" she called.

Merle was stunned.

_Wha' tha…? She came back? She came back!_

She stood on the low wall of the roof, tapping her blades on the edge to attract her attention. He could just make her out over their heads, and saw she was wearing her leather jacket. Some more zombies turned away, and another two took his knife to the back of their head before he had to dance out of their reach again. Then another two fell at the back of the group.

_Christ, there were only three left. He might not actually fuckin' die today._

One geek lurched at him, and he moved into its grasp and jabbed up into its brain through it jaw. He then threw his shoulder into it and forced it back at the last two coming towards him. It caught the first one in the legs as it fell, knocking it back staggering into its fellow. As it tried to regain its balance, Merle grabbed its arm and swung it out of the way, jamming his knife into the side of the head of the second geek. Unfortunately, throwing the other aside with his knife hand had affected his grip, and as the handle was covered in more gore it slid from his grasp.

_Fuck._

The other one had recovered and was coming back at him, arms outstretched. He grabbed one grasping arm and pulled it in as he simultaneously kicked it hard in the chest. As he hoped, its arm came off in his hand, providing him with the weapon he needed. Swinging its own shoulder down on its skull, it tumbled to the ground as he pounded its head into a bloody black pulp.

Eventually he slowed and stopped, finally dropping the arm beside the destroyed corpse of its owner. Sensing a presence beside him, he turned to find her standing by him, sweaty and grinning.

"Oh my God, Merle! You _beat_ a zombie to death with its _own arm_," she said, sounding impressed. "I think you win the Best Zombie Kill award forever!"

Merle stared at her. Now the adrenaline was wearing off, he could actually start to process things other than his own survival. She was standing with gore dripping from those crazy ass blades of hers, grinning madly, and for reasons he couldn't even _begin_ to fuckin' _guess_ at for now, she wasn't wearing any pants.

_She came back… fer __**me**__…she didn't have ta but she did... tha' fuck? _

Obviously unnerved by the fact he was just standing there, silently staring at her, her face fell at little. "Oh…are we still fighting? Each other I mean. Because I think based on this I can make a _very_ strong case for us being a good team…"

Merle grabbed her round the waist and kissed her hard.

…

Ooh cliffhanger! And you've had another long wait, for which I apologise. I found this very difficult to write as I did not enjoy Kate and Merle fighting one bit; however, it's certainly not going to be all hearts and flowers just yet. I am going to try and get the next chapter in before the third season returns though.

Reviews are, as always, insanely appreciated!


	12. Chapter 12

_10/02/13 A quick note to say sorry about the problems with access to this chapter when it was published on Saturday; there was a problem with the site's servers. Thanks for making the attempt to read this again - I hope you find it worthwhile._

_..._

**Chapter Twelve**

Kate was extremely surprised to find Merle kissing her… and, if she was honest with herself, a little disappointed.

Not that there was anything wrong with what Merle was doing… not at all, _technically. _The fleeting impression of an iron grip and a decidedly masculine chest, the press of firm lips on hers surrounded by stubble and a scent of leather and sweat and man turned out to be… well, certainly not _unpleasant_. Neither was it the fact that in the burning heat of the Georgia summer, the smell of the thirty or so corpses rapidly decomposing around them provided a background odour which was, to say the least, rather pungent.

No, the disappointment came from the sense that it was less a romantic 'I-_must_-have-you-bewitching-creature!' kiss than a 'Holy-_fuck_-I'm-still-_alive_?!' kiss. She felt her suspicions were confirmed when he released her after only a brief moment with the same slightly stunned look on his face.

_**Are you saying you want him to kiss you, after the way he behaved? **_Shereen sounded outraged.

_I… it's just, well…look, a girl likes to be kissed for herself, you know?_

_**Indeed, **_responded Shereen, sounding unconvinced_,__** but you'd best knock that look off your face or he'll know as well. **_

Kate immediately tried to appear unfazed and hoped Merle was still a little too fuzzy from his narrow escape to notice the lapse. "Yes, I'm very pleased you're not dead too," she threw in with feigned casualness; unexpectedly this was true, despite how much he had pissed her off. Merle looked about to speak and, given he _had_ kissed her, Kate didn't think it was too unreasonable to be curious about what he might say.

"Why in tha _fuck_ ain't ya got no pants on?"

…

_Oh._

_**You were expecting him to get on his knees, make a proposal?**_

_No, but… something complimentary would not have gone entirely amiss. Anyway, somehow I suspect that normally when Merle has a proposal for a woman, it involves her getting on __**her**__ knees…_

_**There you go, mind in the gutter again. **_Shereen's voice became suspicious._** You've got a very dirty mind when it comes to Merle. Don't think I don't notice**__..._

_Nonsense, you're imagining things…. which means this is all getting terribly meta, since I'm imagining you… _

…

Still, it wasn't an unreasonable question, so Kate answered it without rancour. "I can't sprint in those leathers, and the only way I could get across to you was to take a run up and jump, then pull myself up over the edge."

_Although, yes, it __**was**__ fucking terrifying, since you ask…_

"An' ya pyjamas?"

"They're _not_…," she paused and took a breath, "…I didn't think silk would help get traction on the wall, so they had to come off."

…_and yes, my arms are in __**agony**__ and I think I will definitely miss having skin on my knees for a while…_

"Ya left."

"No… well, not really. I just went to do a bit of exploring."

…_and __**yes**__, your constant staring at my bare legs is making me increasingly self-conscious…_

"Naw, ya tol' me ta jump, an' when I looked up ya'd lit out on me." There was definitely something in his voice; interested but still cautious, like he was trying to understand a problem by feeling all the way around the edges first.

"Actually I was flat on my back trying to get my trousers off quickly… and _yes,_ Merle, I know that's the effect you have on women, before you say it." Merle didn't smile but his eyes finally lifted to hers; Kate thought she probably looked like that when she tried to do anything but the most basic of math.

"An' ya come back fer me," stated Merle carefully, as though still disbelieving.

"Apparently so," Kate said flippantly, not bothering to hold back her grin.

"_Why?_" still frowning, Merle was staring at her hard now, and those sky coloured eyes had attained a piercing clarity that was unnerving.

_What could she say? That she couldn't stand to see that fleeting acceptance of death in his face? That their common humanity had to mean something or they might as well join the ranks of the dead? That she'd been thinking of doing just that until he came along, bringing with him quicksilver moods and abrupt flashes of anger and playfulness and intelligence that somehow showcased what it was to be beautifully, vitally, __uncompromisingly__ human and alive? All of that and more..._

_**Nice… but somehow I can't see you saying that to someone like Merle's face…**_

… _**at least, not if you expect his face to remain straight.**_

Neither could Kate, so she did what she always did with deeper feelings that made her vulnerable, raw, open; she disguised them with humour.

"Yes, well… wouldn't have been right to leave you like that, would it? Bad enough these days I've got to look at myself in the mirror without make-up, never mind without my self-respect. Anyway, I couldn't let you get eaten without giving me an apology, which I'm now prepared to accept by the way." There was silence from Merle, so she continued, "Okay, this is _me_, waiting to forgive _you_." She put on face so ludicrously pious and forgiving that Merles eyes warmed, and there might at been a slight curl at the corner of his mouth.

"Didn't realise bacon meant tha' much ta ya," he said dryly.

"The _prince_ of pork products? Good _God_, man, are you mad?!" Kate played along, before doubt struck her. She cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Umm, Merle… you do… you _do_ realise it's not about the bacon, right?"

"Yeah, well," he actually looked away from her, and Kate considered it a good sign that he couldn't meet her eyes, "…ya pissed me off."

_**Best non-apology ever, **_Shereen chimed in.

Kate agreed, but since it was probably the closest Merle was ever going to come to one, she decided to accept it with dignity…

…kind of.

"Oh! Is _that _what happened?" she asked with exaggerated surprise. "Well, gosh! Next time that happens you _must_ tell me; try not to be so passive, you know? I'm not psychic! You can't expect me to pick up on the subtle signs and verbal cues _you_ put out there." Merle snorted, and Kate decided she had tortured him enough. "And I'm sorry I put those towels on your wrist without discussing it with you. I did suspect you might not appreciate it, and I probably didn't help the situation by sulking myself."

"Hmm… s'alright, guess it ain't yer fault. Bitches an' shit. Shoulda fuckin' figured it out."

"Err… figured what out?" Merle fixed her with a narrow and knowing stare, as though she was being deliberately obtuse, so she raised her eyebrows innocently at him in the hope he would explain

"Towels _an' _temper? Yer on tha rag," he said flatly.

_Oh for God's sake…_

"I'm…" and Kate broke off as she tried valiantly not to giggle, "I'm not 'on the rag,' Merle, no; though thank you for being… um… _alert _to the possibility." Merle nodded, as though the thanks were his due, and Kate fought even harder against the laughter bubbling up inside her. "No, I was merely upset… I suppose I was just looking forward to the day so much, and it all went terribly wrong."

Merle looked genuinely bewildered. "Ya mus' be fuckin' crazy, woman! Why in tha fuck would ya be lookin' forward ta today?"

"Oh, why wouldn't I be looking forward to today!" Kate exclaimed, clasping her hands together in a parody of girlish glee, though this was slightly hampered by the big knives in her hands. "After a good night's sleep in a proper bed, I was going to have a relaxing day with a hot meal, some company… _male_ company no less… perhaps even indulge in a little light flirting…but no. I must accept that my dream of a good day is ruined."

She was a little surprised when Merle lowered his head to hers, whispering in her ear, "Day ain't over yet, darlin'…"

…

_Dammit, why did he have to have __**that**__ voice?_

"No time for love, Dr. Jones," Kate said, trying to sound composed but cheekily sneaking the opportunity to pat that tough, prickly cheek again, "we've got to work out how we're going to get back!"

Merle gave her rueful grin. "Hmm, well I ain't goin' ta be takin' any flyin' leap wit' one hand."

"No, we'll have to go down together… and yes, I wish I hadn't said that," she added, trying not to mirror the saucy smirk on Merle's face. Walking to the edge of the roof and looking over, she frowned. "The ladder's caught on a window ledge; maybe we won't have to go all the way to the ground floor but we'll definitely need to go down a level, then we can put it across to one of our windows."

"Hmm," was all Merle said in response to her plan, but he seemed to be giving it some thought. "How many d'ya see down there?"

"Umm… lots?" He grunted in way that suggested such information was useless, and Kate felt compelled to add, "I'm afraid I didn't stick around long enough to count."

"Damn," he muttered, rubbing his chin with the back of his wrist. "Alright, we go down…"

Kate must have let slip some reaction to the innuendo, since he gave her a crooked smile. "… don't go givin' me ideas, woman, this shit's serious. Now, when I say, ya pull tha gun away an' yank open this here door. I go in first an' we make our way down tha stairs quickly an' quietly. Ya got tha'?"

"Are you sure you don't want me to go first? I do have two knives." Kate didn't want to go first, truth be told. Still, no matter how superb a fighter Merle had proved himself to be, he had one hand to her two and she felt compelled to make the offer.

"Ya think I can't handle it?" Merle snapped.

Kate raised an eyebrow and took a deliberately long, slow look at the walker bodies that littered the roof. "I think, given the evidence, it's obvious that you can handle yourself. I just didn't want you to feel I was expecting you to do all the work. That _was_ something that bothered you before, remember?"

Merle's face was stone, but there was conflict in his eyes when he spoke slowly, "I ain't sayin' ya ain't a burden, an' I ain't sayin' ya are. Jus' make sure ya ain't in my way if I need ta back tha fuck up outta there." Kate wasn't sure she'd correctly deciphered the volley of double negatives he'd just launched at her, but it didn't take brains to work out getting in Merle's way was a bad thing.

"Very well, if I get in your way, feel free to trample over me in your haste to escape."

"Wasn't askin' fer _permission_," he grumbled half-heartedly.

Kate chuckled, but added, "But also, since I'm going to try and be nicer to you, don't you think you could be nicer to me?" Merle looked astonished, so she clarified, "Perhaps you can stop calling me or women in general bitches? Because even then you're still implying I'm one, and I think I at least deserve better from you, don't you think?"

Merle mumbled something that didn't sound like bitch but sounded equally uncomplimentary, possibly involving the word 'uppity.' However, there was no heat behind his words. Kate wondered why she found his gruff exterior amusing for the most part.

_**It's the isolation**_, suggested Shereen helpfully. _**You've been by yourself too long. You've gone strange. **_

_Maybe I'm desperate for company, _Kate snarked back.

_**Harsh. But for the love of God don't start adopting an army of cats and giving them stupid names, like Tarquin… or St. John… or Miss Fussity…**_

_Mmm… _responded Kate, only half listening._ Oh fuck it, we could both be dead in a minute._

She rested a hand on to one broad shoulder and, lifting herself on tiptoe pressed a firm kiss high on his tanned, sweaty cheek. "I'm sorry I called you a shit, Merle. Now don't get killed," she whispered, turning away before she could see the expression on his face. She placed a hand on the gun holding the door shut.

"Tell me when," she said with forced calm.

Merle took his knife in his remaining hand, and approached the door. His face was stoic, but Kate noticed the tendons on his neck were taut and his shoulders squared. "Alright," he said quietly, "on three. One… two… three!"

Kate yanked out the gun and flung back the door…

…

Nothing.

The stairwell was completely silent.

Still, Merle waited a few anxious moments, peering into the blackness before stepping inside. As she followed him, Kate realised why. The shift from viciously bright sunlight to near stygian darkness meant she could see absolutely nothing, causing her to nearly miss her footing on the stair. Fortunately she managed to save herself without making a fuss; she wouldn't have wanted to see Merle's face if she'd tripped into him as they made their away inside.

_**He'd have probably broken your neck in three places before you had a chance to say, 'Oh I'm awfully sorry, how clumsy of me,' **_Shereen said sagely.

_Why would I say that?! Oh no, did I miss the memo - is it 1953 again?_

_**It's so something you'd say. You're trying to be extra nice and polite around him, **_she said in a considering tone, before adding darkly,_** and you kissed again.**_

_On the cheek! And I'm just trying not to piss him off. _

_**Oh my god… you want him to like you! **_

_He's got a knife and a temper. Of course I want him to like me._

_**Yes, but you want him to like you because you like him!**_

_Nooo… well, a bit,_ Kate admitted. _He has a certain diamond in the rough quality about him. But I don't 'like' like him._

_**Bollocks.**_

_Look, isn't it better that I like him? Which is all it is, by the way. He's clearly a survivor, and we should stick with him for a long as it makes sense to do so. So, it's better for us if he likes me, and more enjoyable for me if I like him._

_**Enjoyable? This is a survival situation here, Kate! You don't want to come down hard with a case of feelings for Sir Sidney Ruff-Diamond over there and do something stupid.**_

_You mean like death-defying leaps across rooftops into gazillions of walkers?_

_**Ye…oh fuck off then. See if I care. You go get eaten.**_

_What, now, really?! You don't think I should play hard to get?_

Shereen was now giving her the silent treatment.

_Probably for the best, don't want to be caught with my pants down…_

_**You're not funny, I want you to know that, **_Shereen sniffed.

…

Kate almost got the sense Merle was disappointed as they made it down the stairs without incident, entering what appeared to be a storage room at the back of a supermarket; it was difficult to see with Kate holding her small torch over his shoulder.

"Thought ya said there was lots a tha fuckers up in here?" Merle complained.

"Perhaps we killed them all?" Kate queried hopefully.

"Huh," dismissed Merle, clearly deciding to take out his disappointment on Kate. "An' how come ya got this fuckin' useless kiddie flashlight?"

"I don't normally move around at night, and smaller torches draw less attention. However, I'm more than happy to use the torch _you_ brought… oh no, that's right, you _didn't_."

"I didn't _know_," snapped Merle, obviously on the verge of losing his temper, "tha' I'd come chasin' after some dumb bitch thinkin' she was mebbe up ta her pretty lil' titties in shit, only ta find myself wanderin' about in tha fuckin' dark!"

_Oh dear, best not to antagonise him. And it was nice of him to come after me._

"Okay, I'm sorry, Merle," Kate responded with genuine contrition in her voice, "it was sweet of you…" she paused as Merle gave an angry growl.

_**I don't think he likes it when you describe him as sweet; I think you need to find some descriptors that are a little more 'Dark Triad.'**_

You make him sound like an evil ninja.

_**Pfft. I bet you wouldn't mind seeing him in something black and form fitting,**_ grumbled Shereen.

_Wouldn't have to be black…_

"As I was saying, it was very kind of you to come after me, and I do appreciate it. And don't call me bitch, please." Merle muttered something under his breath and, since Kate thought it more politic not to ask, she meekly followed him further into the darkness.

…

They moved slowly down through a maze of about eight rooms interconnected with heavy wooden fire doors, all of which were open. They noticed there were still canned goods left in one, and that it led to a decent sized walk in freezer, though nothing in there had lasted with the power out.

There were also a large number of bodies, people who had tried and failed to survive in the store. The place was cooler than the roof, but the smell was appalling. At least outside there was a breeze to dissipate the cloying scent of decay; here the stink of decomposition had built up into a sickly sweet fog that seemed to cling to her hair and clothes. Kate glanced up, and was sure she saw the outline of large ventilation ducts. Probably the circulation plants and air conditioning had gone out with the power, making it worse. She quickly flicked the torch up to check, only to be reprimanded sharply by Merle.

"Tha fuck, woman?" he whispered harshly, "I look like I got fuckin' night vision?"

"Sorry! Sorry…"

Even though they weren't moving, Merle took no chances with the dead. Even the corpses Kate thought looked normal, in the sense that they were lying or sitting silently rather than moving around, got a sharp blade to the head.

_I wonder if he had a bad experience?_

_**What, you mean aside from living through a zombie apocalypse?**_

…_Point taken. _

Eventually, they made their way through to the front of the supermarket. The central concourse of the shopping centre had a glass roof, which let in plenty of light. Since the supermarket was simply fronted by large panes of security glass, and the shutters weren't down, they had a fairly good view of everything. Kate turned off her torch and tucked it away. They moved up and down the rows of the store methodically, sweeping for zombies. The place turned out to be empty, though it was clear that some of the stuff had been taken by those in the backrooms. However, they must have abandoned the shop front at some point, since there was less gone from the shelves here than the storeroom.

They wouldn't be able to take it back unless they found some way to carry it though, so they began to look around for bags. Kate went over to check the window display, and ducking behind it, took the opportunity to scope the outside. The shopping centre had two levels of shops, and they were on the upper level. The walkway round the shops near them had maybe ten zombies milling around aimlessly, but they seemed not to have noticed her. Then a sign on nearby shop caught her bemused attention.

**Spray 'n' Pray!**

**Georgia's Number One Christian Gun & Safety Specialist**

Even Shereen seemed astonished.

_**Sooo… just to get this straight… I'm purchasing a gun, and the biggest selling point for me is whether the person I buy them from espouses a doctrine of peace, love and brotherhood? **_

_Perhaps... perhaps it's a cultural idiom that only Americans can be expected to understand, _tried Kate, feeling sure she had read that somewhere.

_**Mmm, **_responded Shereen doubtfully._** Americans are confusing. **_

Kate couldn't help but agree as she looked round for one particular American who was more confusing than most. "Hey, Merle, come look at this," she hissed. Merle loped over, and once again Kate noticed how for a big man he could move very quietly when he wanted. She pointed over at the store, and grinned when he let out a low chuckle.

"I like tha way ya shop, woman."

"I rather thought you would." They studied the neighbouring shop for a moment. It was about fifty feet away from them and, while no shutters were down, it seemed sensible to assume it was locked. "It might be too risky. We'll attract their attention if we break the glass to get out, and there may be more we can't see. Then there's the question of how we get in..."

"Can't be helped, have ta break tha glass anyway ta get next door ta tha ladder. Anyway, I want them guns. Look fer tha key ta tha door."

They searched behind the counter, another small office and employee break room, and even rifled through the pockets of a few of the most likely looking corpses, but they found nothing. Merle was getting frustrated. "Goddamn fuckers, losing tha fuckin' key. Dumb fuckin' cunts!" It was annoying but Kate couldn't understand why he seemed so worked up about a lost key. Still, after a moment he calmed himself. "Fine, looks like we'll be doin' this tha ol' fashioned way."

Taking out his knife, he crouched down by the door and began to jimmy the lock in some way; Kate automatically assumed the role of zombie lookout. The supermarket took up one corner and faced down a long stretch of walkway; most of the zombies were far enough away to be of limited concern, but out of the corner of her eye she saw one coming up from the side. Unbelievably, it was dressed in a uniform and still held a gun clenched in one hand.

"Merle, store security!"

"Jesus Christ, woman, tha's tha las' thing I'm worried about now!" Merle scoffed back, not taking his eyes from his work.

"Shit, I think he knows we're here."

Merle did look quickly up at that, and swore softly.

It seemed it hadn't quite spotted them, but instead had a sense that something was there. It walked to the edge of the store, looking in the window. Kate ducked gradually down behind a display again, trying not to draw its eye. However, a few other zombies seemed to have noticed its interest, and were now wandering slowly over to investigate. Kate gestured at Merle to get away from the door, where at any moment he might be seen.

He was obviously torn, but after a moment he apparently decided to abandon his attempt on the door. Sliding imperceptibly back behind another display, he wouldn't leave without his knife, trying to pull it quietly out of the doorjamb. Eventually it gave way, but as it did there was the tiniest, most miniscule rasp of metal as it scraped the lock.

It was enough.

With a groan, the guard twitched toward them, pounding on the window. The other zombies increased their pace, and soon there was a wall of moaning, shrieking bodies pressed up against the glass, desperately trying to smash their way inside.

"Fuck!" Merle yelled, there being little point in keeping quiet now, "Fuck!"

"Will the glass hold?" Kate asked, trying to quell the rising panic she felt as they backed away toward the rear of the store. Merle shook his head.

"Not fer long." He rubbed the hand holding his knife back across his chin. "Listen, this is wha'…"

He was interrupted by a gunshot.

They watched in horror as a whole sheet of glass fell away in front of them, and the zombies piled in.

…

Kate felt like she was standing there for hours as the first few tattered bodies stepped over the window frame and into the store. Suddenly there was an iron grip round her wrist and she was being yanked back hard into the maze of storerooms behind the store.

"Fuckin' move, bitch, or I leave ya ass!"

They didn't have time to get her torch out, so Kate felt she was being half dragged through pitch blackness. She had no idea how Merle could see where he was going, so she just tried not to stumble over bodies as he jogged her through room after room. Suddenly they came to a juddering stop.

"Shit, shit!" Merle muttered, letting go of her wrist and sprinting back to slam the door of the room behind them. Kate realised with a sense of nausea that they'd taken a wrong turn in the dark, and were now trapped in one of the storerooms. She could just about make out Merle as he shoved the only free standing shelving unit over in front of the door, just as the zombies began to pound on it. The darkness seemed to close in on her, so she closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to remain calm…

… Merle marching over and shaking her roughly was not conducive to that end.

"Wake up, woman! I gotta figure us a way outta here before they break through. Help me check this place fer anythin' else we can use as a weapon."

Kate took out her torch and they looked. Aside from fairly bare shelving units fixed to the wall there was nothing. All they had was three knives and an empty gun against ten or more zombies. With space to move around in, it might have been enough; in a small room it was a death sentence.

The door was starting to creak under the strain, and there was a distinct splintering sound from the other side. Eventually Merle stood in the middle of the room and shook his head. "Guess tha's it, woman. Jus' gonna have ta try an' fight our way outta here when they come through."

Kate walked over to stand by the only other living person in her world, holding the torch beneath their faces so they could see each other without being blinded. It drew attention to the fact her hand was shaking a little. Funny how the creepy effect of the light reminded her of when she was a kid at sleepovers, watching a film she and her friends had rented and telling spooky stories to terrify each other. No need to tell such stories these days, she thought, and who was there to tell them to?

_Hang on…films… I wonder…_

"Pro'bly won't make it, though," Merle continued with a twisted grin, "so, last chance fer us ta have a half decent fuck before i's all over…"

Kate dropped to one knee in front of him and tucked the torch into her cleavage.

There was a surprised chuckle. "Damn, been a while, huh?" he said, reaching for his belt

Kate could barely make herself coherent as she heard the door rattle against the shelf unit. "Get up on my shoulders, quick!"

"Huh?!" Merle queried, obviously trying to work out if she had a previously unsuspected kinky side.

"The vent! Get in the vent! Above your head!"

Merle looked up at where she shone the torch. A fairly large metal air vent ran along the ceiling and into the wall. He stared back down at her for a moment, then without a word put one booted foot on her shoulder and stepped up.

_Fuck, he was heavy._

It was all she could do to keep her back straight as she heard him punch out one of the panels, the motion driving her already damaged knee into the concrete floor. As one of his feet shifted it pulled sharply on her hair, causing her to wince at the further pain.

Then blissfully the weight was lifted, and she looked up to see Merle's legs hanging over the edge before disappearing up into darkness. She waited for his arm to appear to help her up.

She waited some more.

The shelving unit skidded a little on the floor as a particularly hard shove forced the door open, and one or two fingers began to appear round the frame.

"Merle!" she yelped, unable to disguise her terror.

Suddenly the arm appeared, his hand reaching down for her.

"Grab on then, dumbass!" came Merle's voice from above, the metal around him causing it to sound even harsher.

She jumped and their hands caught, and she felt herself being pulled painfully and steadily upwards until she could grasp the edge of the duct with her other hand, helping to pull herself to safety. Merle dragged her in and she pulled herself along the vent. There was movement by her feet and then Merle was lying down facing her. She didn't know how he'd managed to manoeuvre himself like that in a vent that appeared only just big enough to fit his shoulders in, but right now she didn't care.

"Thanks," she gasped. It was all she was able to say right now. She couldn't even muster up the energy to point out Merle was resting his hand on her hip, which felt a little awkward since she was not only pressed against him in the narrow confines of an air vent, but also given the lower half of her body was only clothed in a pair of knickers.

_**Unbelievable. Escaping into the air vents? It's so cliché,**_ moaned Shereen. _**I wanted you to come up with something really clever.**_

_Better clichéd than dead._

She looked at Merle's face. He was grinning cockily at her, his eye's flickering between her face and the torch shining out from between her breasts.

"Cosy, ain't it?"

Immediate crises averted, she could help but grin back. "Yes, but we're still not that much better off."

"Naw, I had a quick look around here, I got us a plan. But i's gonna be dangerous," he frowned. Kate couldn't help herself, and gripped his arm above his elbow.

_**Ooh, firm.**_

_Quiet you._

"Merle, please, don't do anything stupid, will you? I don't want you getting killed after all this. We can figure out something else if we have to." Merle glanced down at where she held him then back at her face, studying her hard. Then a rather mischievous, even wolfish grin spread across his face.

"Darlin', I didn't say it was dangerous fer _me_…"

_Oh… _

…_cock._

...

As promised to a number of my lovely reviewers, I have somehow managed to get this chapter up before the series return, so I hope it doesn't appear rushed for that reason.

I do apologise that the kiss didn't lead to a nice rooftop rogering, but I think we need to play out the development of their relationship a little more. Plus, it must be difficult to get in the mood when surrounded by cadavers, don't you think?

So, references. Sir Sidney Ruff-Diamond is Sid James' character in Carry On Up the Khyber, my personal favourite of the Carry On films.

The Dark Triad is a set of three personality traits (narcissism, manipulation and psychopathy) that are considered to be the basis of a sociopathic or psychopathic personality. This is not to say Merle is a psycho, although I think giving his tough upbringing he does display slightly sociopathic traits in the sense that he's very confident and self-reliant, charming and manipulative and usually selfish. There's also his risk taking behaviour with fighting and drugs etc. There's a fair explanation on Wikipedia so check it out, it's very interesting.

Christian Gun Stores – possibly American readers already know about them, but I was stunned when I found they existed. I thought of the name first and the idea came from there, but on a whim I Googled it and they do actually exist! We love you America but cultural differences indeed - my Brit mind is boggled by it, I can tell you!

Do please review, it's much appreciated, and thanks to everyone who's reviewed previously, especially those I haven't been able to thank personally. Also many thanks to those of you who have followed and favourited. I think the link below expresses how I feel about you all, frightening as that may be for you. You know the drill – take out the gaps!

bit. ly/ Z1N5zq


	13. Chapter 13

_Note: Apologies this is a little later than planned, but work got in the way as it often does. However, I hope you enjoy._

**Chapter Thirteen**

Looking back, he'd misjudged that kiss on the rooftop pretty fuckin' badly.

_That had been a fuckin' ideal opportunity ta slip her some tongue an' see if she'd take it, an' instead he'd given her lil' more than a peck on tha fuckin' lips like some nervous kid who'd ended up takin' tha prom queen home. Wha' tha fuck? Hell, ol' Merle had enough experience a usin' adrenaline ta his advantage. Ya hit tha bar, pick up tha bitch ya can best tolerate tha goddamn sight of, put her on ya bike an' rev it up 'til she's beggin' ya ta slow down. Ignore tha shit, throw in some Devil may fuckin' care laughs an' by tha time ya've pulled up, woman's so amazed she ain't a greasy smear on tha blacktop tha' she's more'n happy ta ride ya other hog 'til mornin'. _

He knew why he hadn't though, and it stuck in his mind like a splinter.

Even having seen her do it, there was a part of him that still couldn't quite fuckin' believe it, that was still trying to work out what her angle was. _She was royally fuckin' pissed an' she still come back fer me. Put herself in real fuckin' danger ta help me. Merle fuckin' Dixon! Hell, only Daryl ever done that before…. but i's always been me an' Daryl, always had each other's back. Dixons 'gainst every-fuckin'-body else. That's tha way it always was, tha way it damn well should be. An' her? She wasn't kin, she owed him jack shit… hell, a' this rate he was tha one tha' owed her. Goddamn, they weren't even fuckin'! Couldn't even say he'd got her hooked on some good Merle lovin'! _

_It didn't make a goddamn lick a sense. _

Weren't even as though he could write her ass off as some deluded rainbows and fuckin' unicorns liberal do-gooder, going through the world with her eyes shut to reality. She'd been prepared to kill him when she thought he might be infected, she'd even thought about taking his axe on with a knife when she thought her life was in danger. He respected that. Hadn't _liked_ it exactly… but he respected it.

_An' she'd kissed him. Only on tha cheek, yeah, but he hadn't missed that in all tha fuckin' excitement. Hell no. An' her whisperin' to him, tellin' him wit' them soft eyes an' soft lips not ta get his ass killed, like she fuckin' cared or somethin'. Mebbe it was a lie, mebbe he was gettin' too cock-stupid ta see wha' her end game was, but damn, fer a moment he thought she almost looked fuckin' beautiful. _

So, it wasn't _all_ bad. Sure, he was stuck in a vent with only one hand and an empty gun, while a fuckload a dead assholes were trying ta eat him… _but_ his only hand had a hot bitch under it who was already half-naked and who didn't irritate the ever livin' piss out of him.

_Well shit, fuckin' days a wine an' roses, ain't it brother…_

…

She shifted awkwardly under his grasp, bringing him back the situation at hand. _Damn, he really needed ta get his shit sorted when they got outta this; his mind still kept wanderin' in tha worst possible way. An' why did so many everyday phrases have ta mention hands? It pissed him off._

"Sorry, feeling a bit squashed. It's very close in here," she whispered. "I thought it looked bigger on the outside."

Merle gave a non-committal grunt; she probably was pretty cramped, and he wasn't helping. Sure, he _could_ move into the good three or so inches of space he had behind him, but why the fuck would he press his back against cold metal when he could press his front against warm curves? _Wasn't fuckin' rocket science._

"So what's this plan then?" she whispered again.

"Ya don't have ta whisper," he replied, "we want noise ta get 'em in here." To emphasise this he banged his booted foot down on the metal floor a few times, leading to increased yowling and scrabbling at the door to the room.

"Oh." He could hear the confusion in her voice. "I think you'd better explain this plan that's going to get me horribly killed then."

"We've made a bit of noise here, enough ta keep 'em interested, so now we crawl 'long here an' ya go inta one of tha rooms ta tha rear a 'em. When they break through, ya sneak up behind 'em an' close tha door," he finished simply.

There was a short silence.

"I'm sorry, just run that past me again?" she said blankly.

Merle did so with unusual patience, this time to be met by a long silence.

Eventually, she said flatly, "Your plan is to close the door?"

He nodded. "If we shut 'em in that room an' leave 'em alone, keep quiet as we go, they'll calm down an' just wander round inside bumpin' inta each other. They ain't that big on thinkin'"

"Apparently they're not the only ones."

"Alright," he said, irritated, "we'll go wit' _yer_ plan."

There was another pause_._

She sighed. "So… just to clarify, your big plan is that I close the door behind them?"

"Yeah, but I'll be up here makin' noise so they're distracted."

"Ah! I wondered where you'd be. I don't suppose there's a chance _I_ could make the noise, and _you_ go down and close the door?"

He grinned. "Ya need me ta lower ya down quietly," he pointed out. "Don't worry," he added lasciviously, "I can be _very_ distractin'."

"Mmm," she said, but she didn't bite; she sounded distant. He had a ludicrous fuckin' impulse to comfort her, and his mind flashed back to something he'd said only a week ago.

"Don't worry 'bout it, darlin', distraction always works…like in Hogan's Heroes."

"Oh yes, I've seen that," she said vaguely, still sounding like her mind was on the impossibility of the task before her.

"Huh. Ya have?" he was surprised. She seemed a little young.

"Oh yes. With Clint Eastwood, and Donald Sutherland on the tank."

Merle thought for a moment. "Tha's _Kelly's_ Heroes."

_Still, it was a better reaction than he got last time. Though wha' tha fuck was she doin' watchin' Kelly's Heroes either? That wasn't a film fer girls._

"I suppose it doesn't matter. I'm going to die," she whispered sadly, before pressing and rubbing herself against him and murmuring, "Come _on_ then..."

_Wha'?!_

His mind shuddered to a stop as the blood began to rush downwards… then he realised she was just trying to move along the vent.

_Oh…damn._

He began to follow her, making sure he dragged and rubbed along as much of her body as possible; he even managed to disguise some rather chancy fondling as a clumsy attempt to help her move along the vent. It wasn't long before he heard her mutter, "Come up ta the coast, we'll get together, have a few laughs…"

"Ya quotin' _Die Hard_, woman?!" he asked in surprise. _Kelly's Heroes an' now Die Hard? Wha' tha fuck?_

"Hey, don't diss Die Hard! John McClane just saved your life."

"I ain't dissin' Die Hard, but it ain't a movie for bitches…" he felt her tense alongside him and decided that, having seen and now touched her ass in those simple cotton panties, it was probably worth correcting himself. "I mean it ain't no chick flick."

"Oh, you're _so_ right, Merle," she said sarcastically. "In fact, on her sixteenth birthday every girl is issued a copy of Thelma and Louise, Steel Magnolias and The Notebook, just so we know what's _our_ kind of film."

"Aww now, I know ya younger 'n me, an' I ain't completely unaware of movies. I know ya wasn't getting' no copy a Tha Notebook when ya was sweet sixteen."

"Quite right, it was Beaches."

Merle was _not_ going to pass up an opening like that.

"I know wha' they're _about_, but how come yer can say it an' I can't?" he pretended to whine.

"Say what?" she said confused, taking a moment to work it out. "Oh for…_no_! _Beaches_, as in _sandy_ beaches, not _bitches_! Honestly, considering I'm the only one in this vent who speaks proper English…"

She paused and looked at his face, and on seeing the smirk there her own lips twitched a little. "You are a terrible, _terrible _man. Films about bitches! And for your information, I happen to like _action_ films."

"Yippee ki-yay…" chuckled Merle.

…

They edged along the vent until Merle felt they had reached a room where they wouldn't be heard. Silently prying up a panel, they lay facing each other as they both listened carefully for any sound of movement. There was nothing, so he nodded to her in the weak light of the flashlight.

"Alright, ya good ta go. Gimme tha flashlight."

"What! You mean I have to do this in the dark as well?"

_Yeah, he liked ta leave tha lights on fer some things hisself…_

"Don't wan' tha light attractin' them. Ya jus' gotta let ya eyes adjust, woman. Then yer be fine."

She held his gaze as she pulled the flashlight out from between her tits, then turned it off and handed it to him. It was warm from the heat of her body, and Merle regretted having to stick it in his pocket straight away.

"Merle…you're _sure_ you can't think of anything else to do?"

She didn't know it but, in the dark, he grinned.

_Careful brother, don't fuck this up…_

"Sure I can."

"What? But… well, go on then!" she said, sounding exasperated.

Merle leaned forward, slipped his hand into her hair and kissed her.

Properly.

…

_Fuck, she tasted good._

She'd been too surprised to respond at first, so he'd just moved his lips gently over hers; coaxing her as his hand tilted her head to a better angle. Then, as his tongue flickered along the seam of her lips, she'd opened to him, so damn _sweetly_, and Merle got that taste he fuckin' _loved_… that burnt honey taste you got from clean living women, the ones who didn't smoke or get high or who hadn't just washed the taste of their last trick out of their mouths.

_Shit, it'd been too damn long…_

Her tongue slipped alongside his, teasing him, and he felt the blood rushing back to his groin again. He pushed her back slightly, cradling her head against the metal. Not that he was being sensitive or some bullshit fairy crap like that, it was just that he didn't want her to stop just because she was fuckin' uncomfortable.

He shifted over her slightly, his chest brushing against those fuck-awesome titties of hers. One of her hands escaped from between them, and she speared her fingers through his close cropped hair; the scratch of her nails on his scalp made him even harder as she deepened the kiss.

_So fuckin' sweet…_

Suddenly she ran the flat pad of her tongue slowly over the roof of his mouth, moaning softly, and losing control he found himself pressing down into her, gripping her head tighter and kissing her forcefully. She whimpered a little, and rather than lose the ground he had made Merle backed off. As he pulled away, he noted she was breathing a little heavily and, from what he could see in the dim light, her plump lips were parted and swollen. _Fuck, that made him feel a lil' breathless himself._ He watched as her mouth curved up in a little smile.

"You know, Merle, you can't go round just kissing women in air vents."

"Ain't got tha room fer much else."

She returned his grin, and pressed against him. "Ahh, well then, if it's _all_ we can do…"

Her arm slipped around his waist, and as she leant in to kiss him he felt her hand sliding up between his shoulder blades…

_Yesss… c'mon baby…_

…the hand stopped moving, and her whole body stiffened.

_Wha'?! No! Fuck no! _

"There seems to be a fair bit of space on your side," she said quietly.

_Oh fuck…_

"Vent must've widened out," he said quickly.

"I see," she said calmly, though her arm slipped away from his waist. "I think I'll try and turn around, and then you'd better lower me down."

_Shitshitshit! _Merle thought, as they executed this part of the plan in silence. _Fuckin' unbelievable. He'd fucked up wit' her three minutes before either of 'em even knew it! It had ta be some kinda record, even fer him._

…

As he made his way back down the air vent, and began to kick the metal floor and holler at the undead fucks, his mind began to wander again. For some reason, he went back to a memory from his childhood…

_He must ha'been 'bout six or seven, cause Daryl weren't around yet. Once again his teachers had decided they'd had enough of 'that Dixon boy,' an' he'd been locked in one of tha storage rooms in tha school basement, waiting fer his Ma or Pa ta pick him up. Assuming they remembered. They pro'bly wouldn't. _

_He'd roamed around tha room a bit, broke a few things in such a way that people wouldn't realise until they tried ta use 'em, an' did a few rude carvings into tha walls an' some spare desks. It was a fuckin' beautiful afternoon outside, an' tha warm sunlight streamed in from tha old transom windows that ran up high along one side of tha room. _

"_Hey! Hey, Merle!" a soft voice called._

_Merle looked up, squinting into tha light. He could make out a head of tousled curls against tha light. He realised wit' disgust tha voice belonged ta a girl._

"_Wha'?"_

"_Ya wanna come out an' play wit' me?" _

_Merle was tempted. The likelihood a either o' his parents comin' by an' pickin' him up was slim, so tha teachers would pro'bly end up just sendin' him off at tha end a tha day anyway. It had happened before. He suspected sometimes that lockin' him up fer tha day an' claimin' they were waitin' fer his Ma ta come was easier than trying ta control him._

"_Can't get out," he said shortly, "an' I don't play wit' no __**girls**__."_

_There was an outraged gasp. "I ain't no girl!" she replied angrily, "I'm a tomboy!"_

_Merle considered this fact seriously fer a moment. "S'pose tha's alright then…" he said slowly. "I'm gonna git up on tha desk; ya pull me up, yeah?"_

"_Alright, she agreed quickly, and in a few minutes Merle was stood facing her on tha dry grass at the back of tha school. She was about his height, which was unusual since he was tall fer his age, an' she had a thin, pretty, freckled face wit' pale blue eyes an' hair that was a dark red. Her clothes looked as worn as his, but mebbe a little cleaner._

"_I know ya?" he asked. He didn't recognise her._

"_I'm in yer class." Hell, that would explain it; he wasn't hardly ever there. "I'm Becky. Becky Tiles."_

"_Tiles? Ya related ta them Tiles up in tha trailer park?"_

"_Yeah..." she said, scuffin' her shoe in tha dirt like she wasn't sure if it was a good thing he knew. Sure, he knew tha Tiles were white trash, but hell, he was a Dixon, not a damn Kennedy._

"_Where ya wanna go play, Becky?" She perked up again._

"_You pick."_

"_Woods?"_

"_Okay… race ya!"_

_She set off laughin', an' Merle was quick ta follow, laughin' hisself. While Merle made sure he beat her, he made sure it wasn't by much…_

…

_Jesus H. Christ, why in tha fuck was he thinkin' about that shit now? Fuckin' days gone by, brother. _He rubbed his hand over his face._ Shit, he needed ta get medicated, an' fast._

As he came back to himself he realised that the geeks had broken through and filled up the room, desperately reaching up to him and clamouring for his flesh, but he had no idea how long they'd been there.

_Had he given her enough time ta close tha doors an' get away? Fuck, he had no idea. _

He played it safe and kept up the noise for another few minutes. "C'mon fuckers, come get me, c'mon now!"

When he felt he'd given her enough time he crept quietly back down the vent. Reaching the knocked out panel he listened hard, but heard nothing from the room. Still, the sound of the distant geeks was definitely muted, which must mean she'd closed the door. As quietly as he could, he dropped down and pulled out his knife, ready to use it.

He felt a touch on his shoulder and spun, but obviously learning from past experience she had already danced out of his way, hands held up to show they were empty. He was surprised when she gently took him by his bad arm and led him slowly and quietly through the dark rooms until they were back at the front of the store. In the light he could see she was covered in dirt and dust from the vent; he must look the same.

"I can't believe that _worked_," she said, sounding slightly stunned.

"Goddamn, I can't either!" She looked at his grinning face and drew back her fist, pretending she was about to punch him.

"Ooh, careful now, darlin', I bruise easy!" he laughed, backing away as though scared.

She snorted, but left him and walked to the front of the store, stepping over the shattered glass and through the window casement. He was surprised she was so bold, but he soon realised there wasn't a single geek in sight. Had they all been attracted into the back room? Could they be that lucky?

"Bloody hell," she said suddenly, "look at that!" He looked where she was pointing. A few geeks milled around on the lower floor, but there was no way they were making it over the enormous pile of bodies that lay at the bottom of the escalator. They looked like they'd tried to make it up and been picked off with well-placed shots to the head. He wondered if they were already dead when they tried. He hoped so, or they might be in some deep shit.

"Stay behind me," he said, and began to make his way towards the gun store, crouching low. _No point lettin' tha geeks know we're here if we don't have ta._

They reached the front of the store and staying low, Merle reached up for the handle. Amazingly the door swung inwards with no problem. Slowly Merle stood and walked inside, the woman following quietly behind.

_Piece a fuckin'…_

He noticed the gun pointing at him first, then the hard face of the man behind it.

_Aw… shit._

…

"Are ya bit?"

It seemed to be the standard greeting these days.

"Naw, we ain't bit." Merle studied the man, ready to reach for the gun if he looked like making a move. His chances weren't good, but he wasn't going to stand there and be shot like a damn pussy. The man was younger than him, short and wiry, with bulging blue eyes, blond hair and a moustache. What really threw Merle however, was the guy's clothes.

He was dressed as a fuckin' priest.

"Ya armed?"

"Only wit' knives."

"Guess I'm imagining that gun in ya belt then."

"No, you ain't imaginin' it, padre, but I been imaginin' bullets in it fer tha past half hour now."

"Put it down on the counter there. An' ya blades. You, come out from behind him." Merle heard her move next to him.

"That yer mess at tha bottom a tha escalator?" Merle asked.

"Yeah. An' that should tell ya what kind of shot I am."

"How did ya know we were here?"

"Heard the shot," he said, and glanced back down at Merle's gun, obviously thinking he was lying. Merle bristled, but was distracted when the woman spoke.

"It wasn't us. I just realised… one of the zombies had a gun in his hand when he was hitting the glass. It must have gone off. Listen," she said softly, "we're not looking for any trouble, we thought this place was empty."

His gaze flickered over her, and in fairness he looked as confused as Merle probably had at her lack of pants. "This ya woman?"

Merle thought quickly.

"Yeah, this here's my wife." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her blink a little, but other than that she gave no sign of surprise. _Not bad, woman._

"Are you good Christians?"

_Tha fuck?_

He felt her draw in a breath next to him, like she was going to deny it, and as subtly as he could he trod hard on her foot, which seemed to shut her up.

_Mebbe she ain't a Christian,_ he thought, slightly disturbed by the fact that he wasn't really that bothered. _Fuckin' typical though, God goin' an' puttin' tits like that on a damn Hebe._

"Sure we are, padre. 'I am tha resurrection an' tha life. He that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live.' An' I'd sure like ta end today still livin', padre."

"Wonderful!" said the priest, suddenly putting down the gun. "Would ya care for some coffee? I'm so pleased that at last I have someone to discuss the Holy Scripture with. I can tell we'll have some long talks, us two."

_Shit_, thought Merle, awash with disbelief, _did my situation jus' get better or worse?_

…

Five minutes later, Merle sat next to the woman in stunned silence as the priest produced hot coffee and some saltines.

"Where are my manners? I didn't ask ya name. 'A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches, and loving favour rather than silver and gold," the man smiled, but Merle didn't like the way his eyes searched his.

"Proverbs. Merle Dixon," he replied, with a fair approximation of friendliness. But he was watching carefully though; he didn't trust someone whose personality turned on a damn dime like that. _Didn't take a genius ta work out tha guy was nuttier than squirrel shit, throwin' 'em a fuckin' party jus' cause he could quote tha Bible. Hell, couldn't tha Devil quote Scripture?_

The woman turned to look at him strangely, as though comparing him to his full name, to see if it fit. _Goddammit, he still had ta find out hers_. He raised his eyebrows at her in question, and she gave him one of those smiles of hers and a tiny nod, as if to say she liked it. He smiled back at her.

_A man could get used ta a smile like that, 'specially when he knew the taste a tha' that pretty mouth a hers wit' them plush pink lips…_

…_I wonder how they'd look wrapped round my dick…_

"And your wife's name?"

Thrown, Merle shot a carefully concealed glance at her, and although she had tilted her head down and lowered her eyes, a perfect picture of fuckin' shyness, he could read the tell-tale curl at the corner of her mouth.

_This was about tha vent, an' he knew it; he wasn't gonna be gettin' no help from her, an' he had a bad feelin' this was only tha start of her payback…_

"_Mrs_ Dixon," he half growled.

"Ahh, of course, newlyweds?"

"Yes. It happened so fast, it seems like we met only yesterday," she said with a submissive tone to her voice. Merle shot her a suspicious look.

"Oh, that's nice. 'Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church.' He turned back to Merle. "Ya first marriage?" he asked doubtfully. Merle felt slightly offended. _Fuck, he **wasn't** that fuckin' old!_

"Tha's right. Been savin' myself for tha right woman. Ephesians."

"Bless you," she murmured just loud enough for him to hear, and he swallowed a choke of laughter.

_Dammit, woman…_

"I'm Father Ray Vassey. Please, have some coffee," he said, handing Merle a steaming mug of black coffee. Merle's nostrils all but twitched at the smell. _Damn, this was tha good shit…_

"Sugar?"

Merle was about to eagerly accept when the woman beat him to it.

"No thank you, Father, Merle's sweet enough." She leaned forward, as though confiding. "Plus, we're trying to watch his weight. After all, darling," she smiled at Merle's frowning profile before reaching out to pat his flat stomach lovingly, "nothing _grows_ in the _shade_, does it?"

Merle's head turned, Exorcist slow, as he gave her a look of shocked outrage.

_THA FUCK?! He was in good fuckin' shape, as she'd quickly fuckin' find out if she moved that hand a hers a lil' goddamn lower…!_

She smiled back at him sweetly. To anyone else she might seem to be the soul of innocence, but he saw that glint in her eye, and she'd better not fuckin' think he didn't.

"You see, we're trying for a baby," she added sadly, "but it's difficult…" she glanced at Merle, clearly implying that the reason they hadn't had one was somehow Merle's fault.

_Oh, hell no…_

Unfortunately, the slur on Merle's virility pushed him into a very unwise comment. "Yeah, well, we'd have more chance of a baby if she didn't keep beggin' me ta kick in tha back door, _if_ ya know wha' I mean, padre."

Well, at least he got the satisfaction of seeing her jaw drop before he realised what a mistake he'd made…

"Wherefore God also gave them up to uncleanness through the lusts of their own hearts, to dishonour their own bodies between themselves," muttered Father Vassey, his eyes glazed with horror, "who changed the truth of God into a lie, and worshipped and served the creature more than the Creator…"

_Fuck..._

The priest had the gun and was already taking aim at his woman when Merle tackled him. Snatching at the gun, he slammed his injured forearm into the guy's throat, carrying them both over the store counter and onto the floor behind. As they hit, Merle on top, he heard the rapport of the gun and felt something hit him in the chest. Pulling himself up onto his knees, he looked down, expecting to see the bloody hole in his chest.

"Merle? Merle?! Oh my God, Merle!" All of a sudden he could hardly breathe, as his face was tightly pressed into a fantastic pair of tits.

_Fuck yes_, he thought, _this is how he'd always wanted ta go…_

…

The poor Padre didn't last long, did he? Anyway, there you go, not quite smut but a little bit of Merle' lovin', which I hope you enjoyed.

Also, for those Rooker fans like me, Father Vassey's name is taken from one of Michael's films. I'll leave you to work out which one :)

As ever, do please review, and my thanks to those who already have, including my lovely and mysterious guest reviewers.


	14. Chapter 14

_Note: AMC writers, you are bastards, and stupid ones at that. _

_Killing Merle? Merle?! Seriously, I can't even… it didn't even make any sense, that's what annoys me! Why would they suddenly believe the Governor? Why do they all know Rick's going to do yet another half arsed job but not say "Rick, I call bullshit, I'm not even getting out of this chair, because you're just not going to go through with it"? And what the hell is Daryl tracking?! Rick knows they're meeting at the grain depot, Merle knows they're meeting at the grain depot (despite Rick not telling him), the Governor knows they're meeting at the grain depot, I bloody know they're meeting at the grain depot, but apparently Daryl needs to breakout the badass tracking skills whereof no man of woman born may match him. How many roads from a prison to a grain depot are there? Do the prison authorities need instant access to grain at wholesale prices in case a riot breaks out? Is the need so desperate they need back up routes? No. Of course not. That's fucking stupid. Like the last two episodes._

_I hate you AMC writers. I hate that I care more about your work than you apparently do. You suck._

**Chapter Fourteen**

_Ohmyfuckinggodohmyfuckinggod…_

After the last few weeks, Kate thought she'd had enough opportunities to develop a good idea of what real fear felt like. There had been the airport, of course, or running across the rooftop towards a pack of zombies to help Merle; they'd offered pretty good occasions on which to reach the limits of terror. However, worse had been those truly dreadful moments in the dark where, on letting go of Merle's large, warm hand as she hit the floor, she had never felt more vulnerable and alone.

Even the voice of Shereen was silent, and that was _never_ a good sign.

In nearly pitch black conditions, with her unprotected legs surrounded by a sea of what she _really _hoped were fully dead corpses, she had felt sick with fear as she tried to sneak up behind the small horde of scrabbling, snarling undead. Vaguely she could hear Merle's banging and occasional shouting above the din; she hoped it was enough. Kate paused in the room that led on to the one containing the hungry throng. She suspected, correctly as it turned out, that the door they had broken through while she and Merle escaped would be too damaged to hold them, and had planned to close the door of the room leading to that one. The door she was standing by, in fact.

Of course, this room _would_ be the one to have three doors rather than two.

_Fuck!_

One was the door they had partly destroyed, and one was the door she stood at now; it was the most direct way back to the front of the store. The other, further entrance must lead through to the corridor, where without too much difficulty they could probably work their way back out the front again, or block their route if they needed to get back to the roof. She would have to close both, and that meant getting far too close to the crowd for her liking.

_Fuck. Fuckkity fuck fuck! Okay, breathe... quietly! But just breathe…_

As softly and as quickly as she could, she crept forward and reached for the open door's handle. To ensure she pulled it back carefully and silently, without knocking the doorframe, she had had to turn her back on the open doorway of zombies, something which stretched her already taut nerves to breaking point. Still, it had to be done… trembling, she reached out and tugged the door towards the frame, desperately resisting the urge to look over her shoulder.

When it was close enough to the door and the time had come to turn the handle, even Kate's nerves failed. She found she just couldn't _not_ face the zombies; if the damn thing squeaked, she at least wanted to give herself some kind of head start. Placing her fingertips against the frame to cushion the door it as she pulled it to, she turned and watched them carefully as she slowly, _oh so slowly_, pushed down on the handle. It gave way beneath her hand without a sound, and with a palpable sense of relief she turned back and closed it as gently as she could.

Then, trying to keep one eye on the ragged mob that anxiously moaned and grasped for a safely out of reach Merle … _the lucky bastard…_ she made her way back to the other door. She tried as best she could to check it before she went through, in case some straggler had come to join its brethren, but it was nearly impossible. Seeing nothing, she nipped through and turned to reach in for the door. Just as she grasped the handle, an emaciated frame on the edge of the excited pack drew her eye merely by the fact that, unlike the seething mass behind it, the thing had stopped reaching and was now standing still.

Perhaps it had heard something, or perhaps it had caught her scent… but for whatever reason its head started, ever so slowly, to _turn_…

_Oh no… no no please…_

As fast as she dared Kate whipped the door to within a fraction of being closed; she dared not risk the handle and the click of the door into the frame if this one had already sensed her. Holding her breath, she listened hard, her ear pressed against the cold surface of the door. Perhaps she was wrong? It was a thick fire door, and for a moment she felt hope as she heard nothing, but then to her horror she thought she could make out lumbering footsteps…

_Fuck…_

… _only one set of footsteps though… perhaps… _

Thinking quickly, she risked grabbing one of the nearby corpses and tipped it over quietly onto the floor in front of the door. Then she backed up and pulled out a knife. If Kate was incredibly lucky, its decayed flesh would mask the scent of her own and the creature wouldn't even try to get through the door. If she was unlucky he'd a least stumble over the body, buying her time to stab him in the head before the other zombie's noticed.

If she was _very_ unlucky… well, it was best not to think about that.

She heard shuffling, and the rustling sound of fabric and desiccated flesh brushing the door. Her heart stopped when the zombie's own exploration knocked the door closed with a soft but decidedly audible click.

_Oh shit…_

Kate forced herself to stand her ground for a moment, though her nerves screamed at her to run.

Then she waited a bit longer.

After a minute, she finally mustered the courage to approach the door, and cautiously placed her ear against it. She could hear nothing but the yowling of the zombies and the muffled thump of Merle's boots. She gave it a little longer, before deciding she had just had a very narrow escape. She wasn't sure her nerves could take another one, and it was that thought which decided her.

…

Working her way around all the rooms as stealthily as she could, knife still held in her increasingly damp palm, she silently closed all the doors to the rooms and corridor except those that created a straight path back up to the roof; now if they needed it as a last resort, there was a clear, fairly straight run back. She knew she couldn't wander through the dark like this again, never knowing what was around the corner or where she was running to.

It only took a few minutes, but to her the whole thing felt like hours, and her muscles ached from tension. As she finally stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking up into the patch of sunlight at the top and feeling the fresh breeze on her, she thought about walking away.

She _could _go. There was nothing stopping her.

A sprint up the stairs, another jump she now knew she could make, and she could hole up in a secure building until it was time to move on… it _was_ tempting…

… and yet…

… it would mean abandoning Merle, and she wouldn't, _couldn't_ do that. Yes, he was a bit of dick, with his sleazy comments and his fondling. But on the other hand, he had helped her, saved her. It wouldn't be right…

_**Oh my God, you're so full of shit.**_

_Oh, now you turn up!_

_**Yes, but only because I can't bear to hear such crap. You won't leave him because you like him, plain and simple. You even kissed him!**_

_Okay, first of all, fuck off, he kissed me. Second of all, I already admitted I like him. Thirdly, people who abandon me in the dark have no right to comment on what I choose to do in it._

_**Ooh touchy…**_

_Look, he's already saved my life twice. I've even saved his, which is… well, kind of incredible and awesome. We're better off together._

_**I didn't say you weren't but I keep telling you, this world is life or death now and your eyes need to be open. Don't convince yourself you're staying for survival if you're really just staying for him. If you start fooling yourself as to why you do or don't do things, then you'll only mess up your head and something will happen that will get us both killed.**_

_Why can't it be both? And given I've apparently personified my super-ego as my recently deceased friend, I think my head is already pretty messed up at this point. Oh, and did I mention you're already dead?_

_**Picky picky…**_

Shereen was right though. Although Kate definitely thought sticking together made better survival sense than being apart, like any typical 'bad boy' Merle definitely had considerable charm, and sadly she wasn't immune. Plus he was funny and smart and his muscular physicality was definitely appealing to her. However, she'd have to guard herself against him, since he was also selfish, hot tempered and sleazy, which was definitely not good…

_**Oh totally. When he attempted to 'pull' you along the vent using your arse, I so remember you complaining. Honestly, Andrea Dworkin would have been proud.**_

_I still say it's possible he could genuinely have been…_

_**Or when he kissed you…**_

_Oh, the kiss…_

_**Oh God, here she goes…**_

_No but… you know, it was… good. Surprisingly good, really…_

She remembered his warm body against hers, heavy and hard with muscle, while the rough scratch of his jaw had concealed soft lips and a liquid, teasing tongue.

… _mmm, yeah… I mean, it wasn't very comfortable in that vent, and then Merle went and leaned on a tit which he'd already elbowed the life out of before I smashed it into a wall, but you know, that aside…_

_**You're rambling. And yes… since the invention of the kiss there have been five kisses that were rated the most passionate…**_

_Hmm? What the… good God! Are you quoting Princess Bride at me?!_

_**Sorry, but I can only listen to so much schoolgirl mooning over a bloody kiss. Come back to me when you've got bent over a table and taken hard and fast…**_

_Shereen!_

… _**then I'll give you my opinion.**_

_Oh my God…_

_**Ooh… though for the record, providing it's safe I don't mind if you use him for sex. Just don't let him use you for sex.**_

_What the… isn't that the same?_

_**Oh dear, Kate, still so innocent…**_

_Dammit Shereen… _Kate sighed_… I do miss you._

… _**Course you do. I was fucking awesome. By the way, there's a zombie behind you…**_

Kate turned instantly, knife at the ready… to find nothing.

… _**psych**__, _said Shereen smugly.

_Jesus wept, I take it all back._

_**Sorry, but you needed something to snap out of this and get back to loverboy, **_replied Shereen, drawing out the last word as a playground taunt.

_Fine, _Kate thought as she began to make her way back towards the storefront, _but anyone less like a loverboy I cannot imagine…_

…

Now, all that lonely time in the dark was nothing.

_Ohmyfuckinggodohmyfuckinggod…_

Kate was so surprised she had frozen more in shock than fear when the priest had pointed his gun at her, but when Merle abruptly knocked him flying over the counter to be shortly followed by a gunshot, Kate's brain switched to full on blind panic mode as she rushed round the end of the display. She'd no idea what she would find, but anything was preferable to the bleeding body of Merle.

Instead she'd seen Merle push himself unsteadily up off the very dead body of the priest, once again apparently unharmed but looking slightly stunned that he had narrowly escaped death for a second time that day.

Kate wasn't even sure what she was saying as she flung herself down to kneel on the chest of the sprawled corpse. The additional height meant that as she hugged him tightly Merle's head was rather awkwardly crushed into her chest, but she didn't care right now.

_He's alive. Thank fuck, not dead, not dead…_

_**Sooo… is it me, or did that situation deteriorate rather quickly…?**_

_Hmm? _Kate responded inside her head, drifting slightly on the downrush of adrenaline and the feel of warm, solid and most importantly _living_ man in her arms…

_**Bloody hell, you're no good in a crisis! Stop smothering the poor sod and let him breathe, honestly!… and maybe actually check him for injuries…?**_

Thinking this was probably a good idea, particularly since he hadn't said anything, Kate pulled away and slipped her hands beneath the leather waistcoat, running them over his torso in a manner that might have looked more professional if she hadn't seemed to repeatedly return to his already checked and distractingly rock-hard chest. He still hadn't said anything though, which was worrying._ Perhaps he'd been hit in the head_?

She stroked his face, trying to get him to focus on her instead of apparently staring down at the priest. "Merle, please speak to me! Are you okay?!" On hearing her voice Merle seemed to come back to himself slightly, his gaze flickering a little before he wiped his nose and face on the back of his hand.

"Shit…," he said dismissively, looking down at the priest, "bet Jesus don't want me fer a sunbeam now…"

…

The relief when he apparently revealed himself to be okay was intense, and she couldn't stop herself hugging him again, even going so far as to plant a rather awkward and decidedly unsexy kiss right on his ear. Frankly, today was all getting to be a bit much…

_**Aww, diddums…**_

_Shut up. I've had a hard day._

_**You don't know what a hard day is! Merle's had worse and he's sick and short-handed, if you'll forgive another pun…**_

Eventually Kate released Merle and was slightly concerned to find him still staring down, although a little more fixedly now. Worry began to turn to suspicion in her mind.

"Merle, are you _actually_ in shock or are you just staring at my tits?"

"Why can't it be both?" asked a suddenly grinning Merle and a mocking Shereen in harmony.

_Don't you dare start synching up with Merle, Shereen, I mean it…_

_**Ha! I promise nothing.**_

Kate shook her head, and looked down at the body of the priest as she finally stood. He couldn't be more dead, and she fought the urge to throw up. The bullet had gone in through his lower jaw and up, taking off the top of his skull and sending pink wobbly mess all over the wall. It was disgusting, and she'd rather it hadn't happened, but... the guy _was_ a _prick_.

"See, this is why I'm not religious. All these thousands of years of thought about why are we here, what does it mean, does right thought lead to right action, and ultimately it always comes down to killing each other over a bit of consensual buggery. Madness!"

Merle looked at her strangely as he stood up. "Ya ain't religious at _all_?"

She shook her head. "Nope. Atheist."

Merle nodded, then tried again. "But ya believe in _heaven_, right?" Kate had actually encountered this attitude before in a lot of places, so she was used to clarifying it.

"Sorry. No God, no Devil, no heaven and hell. Just here and now, and then you're dead and gone. Well… not so much _lately_, but you know what I mean…"

Merle was frowning, but he didn't seem inclined to say more, so Kate decided to try and assess the situation. Fortunately, either there were no zombies in the vicinity or being in the shop had muffled the shot, as there was nothing pounding on the shutters. However, they still needed to pick up the guns Merle wanted and get out, and he looked quite pale. Plus, there were _a lot_ of guns…

Kate looked around her; she had never seen so many guns, it was like something out of a film. The walls were lined with racks of what she assumed were rifles of some description, while on the wall handguns were pinned up on display. The counter itself was full of boxes with suitably macho American symbols on… an aggressive looking eagle… a wolf… a cowboy… _guessing that's ammunition?_

She turned round had to grin at Merle, who looked like a kid in a candy store, his eyes lingering over a couple of… army guns? Sub machine guns? They didn't look like rifles, frankly to Kate they looked like something to be bought by men who were very insecure in themselves…

_**Bet Merle doesn't need to compensate for anything…**_

Deciding she would have to be her own better half on this occasion, she noted that in addition to looking increasingly pasty, Merle was trying to conceal that he was supporting himself with his hand on the counter. She knew if she asked him if he was alright, he'd either deny it or more likely react aggressively. _Hmm, tactics, tactics…_

"Okay Merle, I think you and me need to make a decision," she said authoritatively, and Merle eyes snapped to hers, already looking more alert.

"It seems to me that we have two priorities right now; finding a way back and taking these guns with us; do you agree?" Merle nodded slowly, and she couldn't help feeling that the little curl at the corner of his mouth meant he was humouring her, and he actually found her attempt to be commanding and decisive rather amusing. "Okay, cool."

_**Oh yes, say 'cool' to show how in charge you are. I bet Ulysses S. Grant always responded to battlefield dispatches with 'cool.' Or maybe 'groovy.'**_

Kate nobly ignored this taunt. "So, my thinking is that we first make sure of our exit and get the ladder back, _then _we sort out the guns. Ooh, I should also mention that in the event of disaster, I've shut all the doors in the shop we came through, except those that give us a straight run through to the roof." At that, Merle's curl became a definitely smile, and she would like to think there was a little glint of respect in his eyes now.

That thought was sadly short lived.

"Alrigh' darlin', here's wha' we're gonna do. Ya go sort out tha ladder, an' I'll sort out tha weaponry."

_**Oh no, macho alert.**_

"Are you _absolutely_ sure, Merle? I mean, not to be a third wheel when you're clearly eager to be alone with the ones you love," she said, grinning at the array of guns behind him, "but given what happened last time we split up, and the potential need for us to get out of here fast…"

"Fine, fine, quit yer bitchin', woman," he said irritated, "I'll come wit' ya _jus'_ ta check it out, then yer on ya own. Ya go look, check if ya can see anythin' through tha window, an' I'll follow in a sec wit' a gun, okay?"

Kate capitulated… nicely; she didn't want to argue with him when he looked so ill… well, ill for what she assumed Merle normally looked like. She suspected he didn't normally tolerate anything but rude good health. "Thanks Merle, I'd feel safer with you there." Merle looked at her like he was suspicious she was taking the piss, but she held his gaze until he shrugged it off.

"G'on then, don't be waitin' on me. Gotta pick myself out a sweet piece…"

Kate left him to drool over his guns and cracked the door a little to look outside. She could see nothing but, edging out, she was careful to leave the door slightly open. She considered herself a feminist, but sometimes it's nice to know that a heavily armed and extremely tough man will come running if you scream. She made her way carefully to the corner store, which she guessed was in about the right position to have the ladder leaning on one of its window ledges. She looked at the signage, and couldn't believe it.

_Oh no, really, come on now…_

_**Oh ho! Merle is going to eat you alive…**_

_Well, he won't be the first man today to try._

Kate jogged over and peered in the window but could see nothing. She tapped on the glass, gently at first then harder. Nothing. She took out one of her knives and tried to jimmy the lock the way she'd seen Merle do, but there was clearly more knack to it than at first glance. Defeated by a door at last, Kate turned and made her quietly way back to the gun shop, still nervous of drawing attention.

Walking to the door, she was shocked to see Merle slumped on the floor, back propped against the counter, rubbing his hand tiredly over his face.

Conscious of an urge to help him, but also aware it wouldn't be appreciated in the slightest, Kate silently backed up before approaching the door again, this time scuffing her boots on the floor and giving a loud sniff. Now when she stood in the doorway, Merle was standing nonchalantly by the counter, feeling the weight of a handgun in his palm.

"Browning Hi-Power," he said shortly, "sturdy, reliable. Take it, I'll stick wit' tha Beretta." Kate took it cautiously.

"Thanks. Umm… which bit is the safety again?" Merle gave a deep sigh and showed her, and watched in disbelief as she stuck deep it in her jacket pocket.

"Damn woman, ya ain't gonna be able ta get ta it quickly in there!"

"Well, I can't stick it in my belt like you, can I?" gesturing towards her knickers, and regretting the gesture in the same instant as Merle ran greedy eyes over her. "Behave," she warned, repressing a smile.

Merle grunted, then went and searched behind the counter, returning after a while with a gun belt. "Here ya go," he said as he gave it to her, and watched with a critical eye as she put it on to her satisfaction. Unfortunately, her satisfaction was apparently not a consideration, as he then reached out an adjusted it so it sat slightly lower on her hip before nodding. "Le's go."

They marched outside, perhaps a little more confident in each others company. Kate kept an eye on him for fear his renewed strength was a front. Merle meanwhile had his eyes scoping the area for potential threats, which seemed sensible. When they arrived at the shop, Kate said awkwardly, "I'm afraid I don't have your way with a lock. I tried to jimmy it but…" She let the sentence trail away as Merle finally looked round and took in the shop for the first time. A large grin began to spread across his face, and he turned wicked eyes to her.

"_This_ is tha place?" Kate nodded, trying not to give anything away, and Merle gave one of his low humming chuckles. Although he said nothing further, Kate felt he was saving it all for when they got inside.

_Oh Victoria_, she thought, _why couldn't you keep your secrets to yourself?_

…

It took Merle a grand total of ten seconds from entering the shop to picking out a particularly racy outfit he'd like to see her in. "Hey woman, how's 'bout this?"

Kate considered the red lace number, what little there was of it, then shook her head. "Hmm… not with your fair colouring. Try something blue, it'll bring out your eyes. I suggest periwinkle," and with that and his angry growl echoing in her ears, she was off into the storage rooms at the back.

Fortunately it was a small store, and aside from a small changing room there was only a stock cupboard and a staff room. The staff room was fairly bright and as she made it to the window, she sighed with relief to see the ladder perched on the windowsill. "Merle!" she called as loudly as she dared, "could you come and help me? I've got the ladder!"

Merle ambled through, and shot her a narrow look before approaching the window. He waited while Kate carefully released and lifted the sash, worried any movement could dislodge the ladder from the lip of the sill. Once the window was secured, they both reached out and tugged at the thing, trying not to let its weight crash down into the alley below. Eventually they managed to pull the whole frame inside, and with minimal noise. Merle ducked and looked out the window.

"Hmm… could put tha ladder 'cross here; window frame would prevent some movement as we went across. But it'd mean smashin' a window on tha other side."

"Well, aside from the noise, that's the floor that we sleep on. They'll be a big draft through a broken window."

"I's fuckin' summer, woman!"

"It's fucking summer _now_…" said Kate with a wry laugh.

"Huh. Well, can we get tha ladder through tha run ya made in tha other store?"

"We could, probably…," said Kate cautiously, "but we be going past that room full of zombies, and it's still dark in there. We'd have to be very careful where we step with all those corpses, and while carrying a heavy ladder."

"Best ta smash tha window an' get across here then. Got less far ta carry tha guns too."

_**Poor sod probably feels too sick to want to carry the guns further than he has to,**_ Shereen pointed out, _**not that he's going to say that, of course.**_

"Alright then," agreed Kate, and they began to angle the ladder, though she gave him a playful nudge as she added, "although I can't help remembering that _my_ bed is closest to the window, isn't it?"

"It _is_?" replied Merle, with an innocence that didn't suit him at all, and he leaned down to whisper in her ear, "well, guess if ya get cold an' lonesome yer gonna have ta come an' share my bed." Kate did her best not to shiver, and he pulled back and waggled his eyebrows suggestively before a look of annoyance crossed his face, "Aw shit…"

"What?"

"Forgot where I put that lil' red number."

"_Little_ being the operative word; I don't think I'd wear that if I was cold enough to consider sleeping in your bed."

"Well, s'pose I wouldn't have ya wearin' it fer long, no."

"I _meant_ I wouldn't be wearing it at _all_…"

"Even better!"

Kate bit her lip in an attempt no to laugh, but his smirk was too much. "Oh, just… nevermind!"

…

After that things went surprisingly well. The ladder went across easily, and they managed to pick a moment when there were only two zombies in the alley to smash the window. While Kate went back for the bags of food they had abandoned in the front of the store, Merle picked up enough guns to mount a small Central American revolution, as she jokingly pointed out to Merle.

Merle, eyes bright with fever and gun-lust, laughed with her. "This? This place ain't nothin'. It ain't no store, i's a fuckin' hobby!"

Kate went and picked up some of the last bags over by one of the doors at the rear of the shop. They were heavy duty metal security doors, and when attempts to find the keys had failed Merle had decided he wasn't going to risk breaking one of his knives to open it; they already had all the guns they needed, he said.

Kate bent down to pick up the bag, and it was in this vulnerable position that she heard a rasp of metal and a creak behind her. It was only the fact that Merle was already approaching with his gun drawn that stopped her from collapsing with nerves completely.

"Hi," said a hard southern voice, "I'm unarmed, an' I'm not bit."

…

A minute later Kate was standing next to Merle staring at the girl who had emerged from the stockroom. She was dressed in a denim shorts and a dirty long-sleeved t-shirt that said 'Welcome to Atlanta,' clutching a small rucksack, and Kate was ashamed to say she'd taken an almost instant dislike to her. It wasn't her clothes so much as her face, which made her feel just as bad. It was shifty, she thought, her flat brown eyes constantly moving, her skin pale and poor with acne and her frame rather emaciated.

_**Don't be so bloody middle class,**_ chided Shereen.

Feeling guilty, Kate tried to be polite to her. "Hello, are you alright? Who are you, and why were you in the cupboard?"

The girl turned those flat brown eyes on her. "Father Ray said it was the end of the world. He was tryin' ta save me." Kate tried not to think about how Father Ray would not be saving anyone now, unless they needed to distract some zombies while making a getaway.

_**Ooh, save that idea, you made need it.**_

_Jesus, you need help! Oh bloody hell, that means __**I**__ need help…!_

"Right… umm, I'm afraid Father Ray had a bit of an accident…"

"Yer shot him, I heard," she said dispassionately, "but I don't care much, I didn't wanna be saved like that." That sounded rather dubious; Kate tried not to think about what it might mean.

"Oh dear... well, we could try to help you if you like," she ventured, ignoring the holes Merle's eyes were suddenly were boring into her, but what did he expect when he left the whole burden of the conversation up to her?

"Help me?" the girl scoffed, encompassing them in a dismissive glance. "You ain't even got no pants! An' you ain't got no hand." Her eyes narrowed, "Hey! What's that on your stump? Them bandages look like…."

"Sorry, what was your name?" Kate immediately parried, but too late. She chanced a glance up at Merle's thunderous face, and knew she was in for retribution at some point.

"Shawnee."

_**Is that a real name?**_

_I must assume so, since it's attached to a real person._

"That's nice, this is Merle…" Kate began, but Merle had apparently got tired of being a social butterfly, and interrupted.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, looking hard at Shawnee, "I'm Merle, she's too goddamn nice, an' you're fuckin' grateful. Le's get movin'."

"I promise you, Shawnee, Merle really does grow on you. He can be very charming when he wants." She didn't dare look up to see his reaction to that, but instead pressed against Merle's side a little, and gently slipped her hand around his stump as she said with emphasis, "My name is _Kate_."

She looked up just in time to see Merle glancing quickly down with an undecipherable look in his eye before he looked away again.

"Tha's right, Merle an' Katie, zombie fuckin' rescue service," he said, and Kate noticed he seemed to be suppressing an odd air of excitement, "now let's get tha fuck outta here!"

…

Apologies for the long delay, I've been swamped at work. I'm just off on a little holiday now so it would be lovely if I came back to some reviews. Again, thanks to everyone who has favourited, followed and reviewed.

Those of you who have been awaiting the next chapter of In His Own Image and an epilogue to Shame, you are in luck; next week I will update.


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